


you are the sweetest, sweetest song (i could hear your song forever)

by jeyhawk



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Comeplay, Coming Out, Crossdressing, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Phone Sex, Scent Marking, Self-Lubrication, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 21:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 84,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5681173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeyhawk/pseuds/jeyhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Mostly) Canon Compliant AU. Nick is an Alpha, Harry is an Omega and it's possible they've been in love all along. Features a lot of talk about scents, a long-suffering group of friends, a non-serious car accident, a surprise trip to New York, high-flowing emotions, too much crying, a highly improbable number of orgasms, and a soul bond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. 
> 
> Thanks to goingmissing for brit-picking, and eloiserummaging for beta-reading. All remaining mistakes are definitely my own. Also thanks to my darling alpha-readers. You know who you are. <3
> 
> From the first word to the final product , writing this has taken about 18 months. I owe massive thanks to every single person who has encouraged me along the way, be it on twitter, on tumblr, or in person. Without you, this fic would never have been finished. 
> 
> This fic has a few tense scenes. Nick gets hit by a car but is not seriously injured and also has an asthma attack at a later point. Harry, who is coming into his scent, is on a hormonal roller coaster for most of the fic. For any further questions about triggers please feel free to DM, ask, or email me (jeyhawkgaidin (at) gmail (dot) com). Link to twitter and tumblr can be found in the end notes. 
> 
> Mini dictionary
> 
> Supps = Suppressors, used to suppress heats completely. Usually only taken before a person comes of age. 
> 
> Regs= Regulators, used to keep heats on a regular schedule. May or may not contain a contraceptive. 
> 
> Title from Sweetest Song by Jessie Ware.

"Honey, I'm home." 

Harry's shout is loud enough to ring out against the ceiling. If he was within range Nick would throw a decorative pillow at him, but he's still banging about the hallway doing whatever it is popstars do when they enter someone's home. It's not doing Nick's headache any favours.

"You don't live here, you pillock," he shouts back just as Harry appears in the doorway, looking happily dishevelled in skinny jeans and a blue t-shirt.

"Heyyy." Harry grins and drags the word out forever, mock offended.

"You don't."

Harry shrugs, careless in the way Nick thinks you can only be when you're nineteen. "As good as."  
Nick considers this. He's basically right but-- "Usually when people move in with other people there's some kind of discussion of intent, I believe."And kissing. Nick thinks there's usually a whole lot more kissing.

"You gave me a key and said ‘come and go as you please.’ I'm coming and going as I please."

"I didn't think it meant I'd never be rid of you, did I?"

Harry pauses halfway into the kitchen to give Nick a look over his shoulder.

"Do you want me to give it back?"

"No, of course not."

"Do you want me to stop coming over?"

" _No._ " 

"Then why are we having this discussion? God, Nick, you're so weird." He throws his hands up and disappears into the kitchen.

"Do us a cuppa," Nick shouts after him, trying to decide if he's offended or not. He doesn't _think_ he's weird for thinking it's weird that Harry Styles basically moved in with him, but what does he know about the habitation habits of boybanders? Maybe they've all moved in with someone. Maybe if he called Greg James he'd find out Liam Payne lives in his basement.

"I'm doing you lunch," Harry shouts back, because he is a bit of a domestic house god and Nick never wants him to move out ever.

"Whatever," he responds, pulling a pillow over his head. "Wake me when it's done."

\--

It's not until they're halfway through lunch that Nick's hungover brain remembers why Harry left in the first place.

"How did the doctor's visit go?"

"It was okay." Harry shrugs without looking up.

Nick waits for more but nothing seems to be forthcoming and Harry's suddenly _very_ interested in his food. He kicks Harry's shin under the table.

"Come on, Haz. What did they say?"

"The expected." Harry scrunches his face up. "That it's time for me to change my meds. That most people my age have already been on regulators for a couple of years. That I need to go through my first heat. Blah. Blah. Blah."

Nick smiles. Harry's the oldest Omega Nick has ever met who hasn't come into his scent and Harry hates being reminded of it.

"But you worked out a schedule, yeah?"

Harry makes another face and stabs a piece of tomato. "Yeah," he mutters. "We worked out a schedule."

Nick waits but nothing’s forthcoming. "Harold." He nudges Harry's feet under the table. "What does the schedule look like?"

Harry blows out a breath and messes with his fringe, shaking it out and flicking it to the side. Under the table he wraps his feet around Nick's ankles. "Gradually lowered dosage of supps from the start of tour and I'll be completely off them by the time I come back to England." He looks up and then quickly down again. "Can't know exactly when...you know...will happen, but probably a couple of weeks after that."

He's blushing, Nick realises, warm pink tinting his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It's _adorable_. "You don't have to be embarrassed," Nick says, trying to sound wise and adult and not like he's talking about Harry having wild sexual urges. "It's natural."

"Easy for you to say," Harry mutters. "You're not the one who'll be dripping all over the place."

Nick really, really doesn't need to think about Harry dripping. Ever. "You're talking to the wrong person, love," he says, trying for light and airy. "Alphas like that sort of thing. You don't mind if a girl drips for you, do you?"

"I suppose." Harry's voice is barely a mumble and he's squeezing Nick's ankles almost painfully hard. Nick knows he should probably push the subject more and make Harry talk about what's bothering , but he's tired and hungover and talking about Harry going into heat is a special circle of hell he just can't deal with right now.

"Want to ignore the dishes and watch the worst telly we can find?"

"Yes, please." Harry jumps up so fast it's funny, but for once Nick doesn't poke fun at him. Harry still looks a bit wobbly around the edges and Nick would rather chew off his own arm than hurt him. He's a bit pathetic like that.

\--

Watching crap telly, of course, turns into full on cuddling on the couch, as it always does, but it's so very hard to mind when Harry is warm and relaxed in Nick's arms, half dozing with his cheek on Nick's sad excuse for a bicep. And Nick is greedy; he grabs for anything Harry will let him have because he knows that once Harry meets his match, he'll be out of Nick's life.

Oh, they'll still be friends; Harry's way too decent for anything else. They'll talk sometimes and meet up for dinner and drinks occasionally, but it won't be like this. The same thing that makes Harry gravitate towards Nick now--his Alpha scent--will put him off once he found _his_ Alpha and Nick can't even be mad because it won't be on purpose.

The thought makes him shift his arm from resting along Harry's ribs to wrap fully around his chest, giving him a squeeze. It's painful to even think about Harry with someone else. He doesn't know how he'll bear the reality of it. It's just Nick's luck to have the love of his life be a straight Omegawho hasn't even come into his scent and who is roughly the most complicated boy in the world to love regardless.

"You smell sad," Harry mumbles drowsily, drawing a pattern on the inside of Nick's underarm. "Don't be sad."

Nick swallows. He never met anyone that could smell his emotions before, but Harry's nose is phenomenal, especially when they're close like this.

"I'm not sad," he lies, shifting so that he can bury his face into Harry's hair. "Your nose is a liar."

"You're a liar." Harry rubs his cheek against Nick's arm. "My nose is amazing."

"I'm just thinking about what on earth I'll do with myself when you're off on tour," Nick allows. It's only partly a lie anyway. "Who will do CT&C Sundays with me while you're conquering the world? Do you think someone from The Wanted might be available?"

"No."

"Union J then? Those boys are pretty fit."

" _No._ "

"I can't do crap telly and cuddles with myself. That would just be sad, Harold. People would laugh at me."

"Get a dog then."

Nick laughs at Harry's petulant tone. "I don't want to be alone forever, you know," he says gently, patting Harry's hip. He has to move on, he thinks; it's the only way to survive this.

"You won't be. I'll be back. It's just a couple of months."

A couple of months could as well be years for how awful it sounds, but Nick finds himself nodding anyway. "Fine, I guess your spot will just have to be vacant until you come back."

"Good." Harry sounds way too pleased with himself, but Nick can't bring himself to care. It's all just banter anyway; it'll be a lot longer than two months before Nick tries to replace Harry no matter how bad it'll be for his heart.

\--

"What if you don't like it?" Harry is the uncrowned king of non sequiturs but usually Nick has at least _some_ idea of what he's talking about. This time, not so much.

"Like what? The chicken?"

"No." Harry frowns at him over his shoulder. "Of course you'll like the chicken."

He's probably right. Nick is very easy for Harry's cooking.

"Then what?" Nick asks because there's literally nothing in their previous conversation to clue him into what Harry is talking about. They were talking about DJ Fresh five seconds ago.

"The way I smell after—you know."

"Oh." _Oh._

"What if you hate it?" Harry's trying to sound flippant but he misses the mark by a mile. Nick wonders if he's been thinking about it ever since his visit to the doctor's. It's been nearly a week.

"Of course I won't hate your scent, Haz. It's yours." Nick never even contemplated possibility that he won't like Harry's Omega scent. He's quite certain it will be the complete opposite, because his life tends to suck that way.

"But you can't know that," Harry says stubbornly. "What if you do?"

Nick considers his answer carefully. "On the very off chance I don't like your scent I swear I'll still be your friend." 

"Pinky promise." Harry looks heartbreakingly young as he turns around and sticks his hand out, offering Nick his pinky. He had a photoshoot earlier so his hair is strangely immaculate, but he’d changed into one of Nick's old t-shirts as soon as he got in and it hangs off his narrow frame like a wash-worn nightie. The end result is a strange combination of endearing and hot.

"Pinky promise," Nick agrees solemnly, linking their fingers together and pulling lightly.

"I'll hold you to that," Harry says, staring at Nick's face as if he's trying to look into Nick's brain and gauge the depth of his commitment to this promise. "Don't think I won't."

Nick's mouth twitches. "What are you going to do? Take me to court and sue me for breaking a pinky promise?"

"For everything you own: your flat, your job and your circle of friends," Harry says viciously. "They'll side with me once they hear what you've done anyway."

"So it'll just be me and the dog I'll have to get to survive you callously leaving me for world domination then? That's harsh."

"No, I'll get the dog too." Harry visibly perks up, the tension draining from his frame. "Are you really getting a dog? Can help pick it out?"

"If I get a dog, which I probably won't just yet, then yes, you can help pick it out." He'll have to anyway. Dogs generally don't have a problem with Alphas but Omegas tend to confuse them, and Nick doesn't want to get a dog only to find out it's uncomfortable around Harry and his other Omega friends. It wouldn't be fair to anyone.

"Awesome." Harry grins, biting down on his lower lip to temper it but failing miserably. Nick's not sure if he's happy about the possible dog or just happy in general; Harry's moods are often confusing to him. Harry turns back to the stove and checks on whatever magic he's concocting in one of Nick's barely-used pots. "Now set the table. Dinner should be ready in about ten minutes."

"Aye, aye sir." Nick throws a pointless salute at Harry's back and levers himself up. Crisis averted for now then.

\--

"What do I smell like to you?" Nick asks later that night when they're pretending to watch telly on Nick's bed. It's probably pure masochism on his behalf, but he's curious. Harry's friends with a lot of Alphas, but aside from Liam, Nick is the one he spends most time with.

"Good." Harry's answer is muffled but nearly instant. He had faceplanted onto Nick's stomach when he got on the bed and never moved.

"What was that?" Nick tugs lightly on Harry's hair. It's tacky with styling products. Harry better shower later or he's not putting his head on Nick's pillows tonight.

"Good." With seemingly great effort Harry turns his head so that he's looking up at Nick instead of talking to his navel. Nick doesn't know why he thought that would be better, exactly. "You smell good to me."

Harry rubs his cheek against Nick's stomach and Nick tuts at him. "Don't be odd and sexual, Styles. It's unbecoming. And do take a shower, your hair is gross."

"Fighting words," Harry says, but he's smiling.

"Go on now." Nick pokes Harry in the forehead with a finger. "Shower or I'll make you sleep on the couch."

"You won't." Harry sounds way too certain, but he pushes himself up on his hands and knees, swaying back and forth for a moment before he sits down on his heels, so Nick considers it a win.

"Watch me." Nick tries to sound stern, but he probably fails miserably. Harry looks adorable. His hair is sticking out funny on one side and Nick's stretched old t-shirt has slipped down over his shoulder as if he's the heroine in an eighties movie. All that's missing are a pair of leg warmers and questionable bangs. Nick almost mentions it, but he realises Harry might be too young to get it and snaps his mouth shut. He's already had his daily quota of reminders that Harry is nearly a child. There was an article in the paper this morning that made sure to mention their age difference several times, almost as many times as they mentioned their respective statuses -- Alpha Nick Grimshaw, 29, and Omega Harry Styles, 20, blah blah blah -- though at least the pictures had been flattering.

"What?" Harry asks suspiciously, straightening the shirt so that the collar sags halfway down his chest instead. "Does my hair look funny?"

"Your face looks funny." Nick considers it. "But also your hair."

Harry bats at it to flatten it, pouting. "You could have said."

Nick rolls his eyes. "I'm the only one here and I don't care about the state of your hair."

Harry pouts some more.

"I don't."

Harry's pout reaches comical levels.

"Oh, fine, it's adorable, okay?"

Harry grins and slides backwards off the bed, getting his feet under him at the very last instant. "I knew it. You like my hair."

Harry's hair is ridiculous. It's curly and thick and he spends way too much time running his hands through it. Nick loves it, that's the thing. "It's okay," he allows. "When it's not disgusting."

"I'm sure you'll like it better when it's getting your shoulder wet." Harry's still grinning that Cheshire cat grin and it should be annoying, but it's really just endearing.

"I'll like it better when it returns to my bed clean and _dry_. You know where the dryer is. No wet hair on my shoulder, that's the rule."

"Since when?"

"Since now."

Harry purses his lips. "But what it we get caught out in the rain and my hair gets wet but I really want to hug you?"

Nick can imagine the headlines if they got caught cuddling in the rain. They're not pretty, but-- "I suppose it would be alright if I was already wet." Nick is a weakling and if Harry wanted to hug him in public he'd bear the consequences proudly. He's always been a bit of a shit Alpha, not much for the whole posturing thing, but it's not like he minds when Harry acts like he's Nick's in public. Who doesn't like being the envy of everyone in the room?

"That's okay then." Harry flicks his hair off his forehead and heads for the bathroom. Nick probably imagines the extra sway to his hips. Harry's a tease but he's never been cruel.

\--

On Friday they go out for drinks with Nick's friends because his phone has been blowing up all week with pointed reminders of their existence and he figures he'll want them to still be talking to him when Harry leaves. Of course Nick's friends are Harry's friends too by now and they're barely through the door before Harry disappears onto the dance floor with Daisy and Collette, drink in hand and a huge happy grin on his face.

"So," Aimee says, following Nick's gaze to the dance floor before she puts her elbows on the table and leans in. "Did you piss on him before you left the house or what? He stinks of you."

"I did not," Nick gasps. He's scandalised. He's never once tried to mark Harry even though there are few things he wants more in life. Harry's up on the dance floor right now getting Daisy's scent all over him and Nick's sitting here relaxing with a drink and horrid best friend. "He spends a lot of time at mine, that's all."

"That's not the smell of 'spends a lot of time at mine' that's the smell of wears my clothes, sleeps in my bed and regularly rubs himself all over me."

"So a day that ends in a y then," Ian says, clapping Nick's back as he slides onto his chair. Aimee raises her eyebrows. "Why are you looking at me like that? Nick's your best friend, I thought you knew."

Nick bites down on the inside of his cheek and looks at the way Harry's spinning Collette round and round on the dance floor. She's laughing with her head thrown back and her skirt twirling around her legs.

Harry's laughing too, drink forgotten somewhere and face flushed. He's wearing one of Nick's t-shirts and the black skinny jeans he's been favouring lately. He’d probably picked the t-shirt off the chair where good t-shirts go to rest before they're moved to the clothes hamper, and Nick didn't even notice because he's so used to seeing Harry in his clothes.

"Look, darling." Aimee brings Nick's attention back from the dance floor and his cheeks feel warm even though he wasn't doing anything wrong. "I just think you should talk, that's all." She reaches across the table to touch Nick's hand and he has to fight the urge to pull away. "What you're doing isn't just friendship, Nick."

"It is," he says stiffly. "We're really just friends."

"Nick--"

Thankfully the conversation is halted by Harry and Collette's laughing return to the table. Harry drops down into the chair next to Nick's and lets momentum carry him halfway across Nick's lap, hand warm on Nick's thigh and hair tickling Nick's chin.

"Hiya," he says, grinning widely as he more or less straightens up. "Does anyone want a drink?"

Nick can feel Aimee watching him as Harry takes drink orders and repeats them carefully but he refuses to meet her gaze. Harry is his friend, they're just _friends_ , and Harry probably doesn't even realise that he smells like Nick or what it'll mean to other Alphas.

Harry bumps his head against Nick's chin like an affectionate cat. "D'you want anything?" he asks.

Nick wants a bottle of vodka, a cheese platter, and oblivion, but he shakes his head minutely. "I'm good." Suddenly he doesn't want to be drunk and careless around Harry.

Harry leans in and, oh god, sniffs his neck. "You don't smell like you're good," he says lowly. "Everything okay?"

Nick's cheeks heat up. "I'm fine," he says quickly. "Just tired."

Harry's too attentive for someone who was tipsy and disorderly a few seconds ago. Nick needs him to move away for a bit, so he can breathe.

"You sure?" Harry's eyes are big and soft, and Nick wants to drown in their green depths, but he tears his gaze away.

"Yeah, I'm just going to head out for a nip of air while you get the drinks. Should wake me right up." He pats the pocket where he keeps his Marlboros meaningfully. He's not really drunk enough to want a smoke, but he'll have one just to get away.

Harry makes a face at him but it softens into a smile quickly enough. "Fine, go ahead and be gross then."

"You're gross," Nick retorts automatically.

" _Your_ gross," Harry responds cheekily and it's not until he's halfway to the bar that Nick realises what he said. He really needs that smoke now.

\--

Aimee follows him of course--he expected her to--but instead of launching into a tirade she leans against the wall next to him and looks up at the sky.

"He's in love with you," she says after a moment.

Nick blows out a cloud of smoke and shakes his head. "You got that the wrong way around." It's almost freeing to finally admit it. He's in love with a popstar and his heart is about to break into a million tiny pieces.

"I really don't think I do." She puts her cheek on his shoulder and fumbles for his free hand, linking their fingers. "I'm not sure he knows though. It might be pure instinct on his behalf."

And that's the thing, isn't it? Nick is Harry's first really close Alpha friend; he might just be confused. Sadie once told Nick of her late teens and how she went from Alpha to Alpha because she craved the sense of belonging their scent gave her even if they weren't even compatible. Nick can see Harry being a bit like that, wanting to belong to a greater whole because of the transient nature of his unusual life.

"I don't know what to do, Aims." Nick flicks his cigarette away and takes a deep breath. He feels like he's about to cry. "He's leaving in two weeks and when he comes back--" He shakes his head and swallows thickly.

"He'll have a scent," Aimee finishes for him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Nick tucks his face into her neck and just breathes for a moment. When he was a teenager and had just come into his own scent, he couldn't stand the smell of other Alphas, but now he likes it. He likes how Aimee and Daisy and his other Alpha friends smell like him but not quite, he likes how reassuring it is to be among his kin. Betas never truly understand, no matter how much they read up on the subject, and Omegas have their own quirks.

He doesn't have to tell Aimee what it's like to love Harry and not claim him. She already knows.

"It's not me," Nick finally says, straightening up. "I don't...I don't mark him. I wouldn't."

"I know," she says, cupping his face and looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry if I made you think that I didn't. I know you wouldn't do that."

Her hair is orange today and her lips bright red. She looks fierce and capable and lovely and Nick loves her so much.

"He says I smell good to him." Nick smiles faintly. "I asked."

"Yeah, that's much is obvious." She rolls her eyes. "You smell good to me too and I don't feel the need to rub up against you and steal your clothes. You should talk to him, Nick. It's going to be a long two months if you don't."

Nick sighs. "It's going to be a long two months regardless."

"Yeah." She goes up on her toes and kisses his cheek. "We'll be here though. All of us." She sinks down on her heels and lets go of his face, squeezing his shoulders instead. "You'll be fine."

Nick's pretty sure he won't be fine in any way, shape, or form, but he'll probably survive at least. That's something.

\--

They're quiet as they get home that night, Harry seemingly lost in thought and Nick plagued by doubts. Should he have put a stop to this whole cohabitation thing? He has never consciously marked Harry, but Harry living in his home and walking around in his clothes is basically the same thing and Harry's been doing that almost since the day they met. 

Weirdly Nick never even considered what it would seem like to other scented. No one's ever said anything and the boundaries were always so clear in his mind, but it's not like other people can tell Harry smells like Nick in a strictly platonic way. Thank fuck papers are not allowed to report on imprints or they'd have been in a world of trouble ages ago.

Nick takes first turn in the bathroom, taking his time to brush his teeth, wash his face, and stare at himself in the mirror until his eyes feel gritty with it. He looks tired and old and sad, chin covered in stubble and quiff wilted. His sleep shirt is wash-worn and moth-eaten, and ironically it's Harry's, the faded print advertising a Holmes Chapel flower shop.

Nick's proud of everything he's accomplished and he wouldn't want to be twenty again, it was a terrible age for him, but sometimes he wishes he was just a little younger. Twenty-four maybe, or twenty-five, not soon to be twenty-nine and officially a decade older than the love of his life.

"Fuck," he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face and into his hair, tugging on it, but that's the truth right there, isn't it? If he so lives to be a hundred-and-two he's certain he will never love another person as much as he loves Harry. He's been in love before, with people who loved him back even, he's been with Omegas whose very smell made him weak at the knees, and with Betas who wormed themselves right into his heart, but it's never been like this. He's never been this _sure_ and they've never even kissed.

"Did you die in there?" Harry actually sounds a bit concerned so Nick squares his shoulders, sticks his tongue out at his reflection and reaches for the door.

Harry's standing in the hallway bare-legged and pigeon-toed. He's wearing the t-shirt Nick had on this morning.

"You stole my shirt again," Nick remarks, tugging lightly at one of the sleeves.

"It's going in the washer anyway." Harry shrugs. "And you're one to talk, or are you a regular at Artie's Flowers?" He pokes Nick in the chest over the faded print.

"At least this one was clean," Nick says lightly.

Harry stiffens slightly, and if Nick hadn't been looking for it he would have missed it completely. "You get huffy when I sleep in your precious band shirts."

"It was a vintage Sex Pistols shirt."

Harry rolls his eyes. "Still made to be worn." He ducks under Nick's arm and disappears into the bathroom before Nick can think of a retort or a way to bring the conversation back to the issue at hand.

\--

Nick can't stop thinking about it. Now that he's had it pointed out to him it's pretty obvious that Harry doesn't go anywhere without being soaked in Nick's scent. He smells like himself -- boy, soap and citrusy-ocean -- only when he's been out all day and usually he changes into one of Nick's discarded shirts first thing when he gets in.

When he tentatively brings it up with Aimee again she suggests that he simply does all his laundry, so that's what he does on Tuesday after work while Harry's off doing pre-tour stuff with his band of muppets. Half of the stuff he packs into bags and drops off at his laundry service is Harry's, he realises, but he figures Harry'll need clean clothes for his rapidly approaching tour anyway. He's not going to sniff test every item to find out who wore what last. That would be taking things too far.

Once the laundry has been sorted, Nick has dinner with Collette, and by the time Harry comes back to the flat he's already in bed, half-watching an old Simpsons episode with the volume turned down.

"God, that looks great," Harry says by way of greeting, eyeing the bed longingly as he tugs his stolen jumper off. "I'm knackered."

"It is pretty great and hello to you to, Harold."

Harry smiles, looking soft and tired and lovely. "Hiya." He waggles his fingers in a ridiculous little wave. "I'm just going to clean my teeth."

He leaves his jeans in a pile on the floor and throws his t-shirt on the jumper before he disappears into the bathroom. Nick thinks he deserves a medal for the way he doesn't even look at Harry's pert little arse or the long line of his back. He's definitely a champion of the averted gaze by now.

"You did laundry," Harry remarks when he comes back from the bathroom still bare-chested.

"Dropped it off more like it," he admits. "Took your stuff too."

"Thanks." Harry hesitates only for a moment before he heads to the t-shirt drawer and picks one out. Tthe hesitation might as well be in Nick's mind. He's spent way too much time watching Harry's every move lately. This whole thing is doing his head in.

"You changed the sheets too," Harry points out when he slides in under the covers on his side.

"It was time, yeah? It's been a couple of weeks."

"Yeah, I suppose." Harry picks at the covers, chewing at his lower lip. His eyes keep flicking to Nick's shoulder as if he's looking for an excuse to crawl closer but can't think of one. They cuddle on the couch and sometimes on top of the covers but never once they're properly in bed.

"And Aimee pointed out you kind of stink of me the other day." Nick struggles to keep his tone light, as if this isn't something he's been obsessing about since Friday. "Made me worry about the state of my sheets."

"Oh." Harry's voice is barely more than a breath and suddenly Nick wants to take everything back and probably also slay a couple of dragons; Alpha instincts are weird like that. When Harry's had a bad day, Nick wants to sleep in front of the door, which is ridiculous on many levels.

"I mean, I don't mind obviously," he says quickly because he's weak and he made Harry sad and that's unacceptable. "Who would mind having their scent all over a young nubile thing like you? But uhm--people talk already and I thought maybe you didn’t know."

"I like your scent," Harry mumbles. "I like having it on me." When Nick dares a glance Harry's blushing fiercely. Oh god, they're so inept at this. "It makes me feel safe and like--cared for."

Nick thinks that if he reached for Harry now, Harry would come and all of their pieces would slot together beautifully. He doesn't reach for Harry. He pulls his t-shirt off and holds it out instead.

"Swapsies?"

It's a matter of moment to swap shirts and when he settles back down Harry looks so content Nick's heart sings with it. He still wants to pull Harry close and kiss him until he's trembling, but this is good too. Harry happy and smiling in his bed is more than enough. It will have to be.

\--

There's always a ticking at the back of Nick's mind, counting down the days until Harry leaves. It's quiet in the beginning, just the occasional reminder that just as sure as the tide turns Harry will be swept away, but as the date grows nearer it gets louder until Nick's nearly constantly reminded of it. Ten days until Harry leaves, seven days until Harry leaves, five days until Harry leaves, four days, three, Harry leaves tomorrow.

On Harry's last night home they throw a dinner for the closest friends and family that are in town. Harry's just back from spending the weekend with his mum. Gemma sits next to him at the table in the seat usually reserved for Nick. Nick doesn't mind. He loves seeing Harry laughing with his sister, loves seeing him happy and surrounded by friends, even if there are enough people to turn his entire flat upside down and he knows he'll be left with the tidying tomorrow.

"How are you holding up love?" Daisy asks, following Nick into the kitchen and manhandling him into a hug. "Okay?"

Nick wants to laugh because his life is so absurd. "Yeah," he says, linking his hands behind Daisy's back. "I'm okay."

"This looks cosy," Harry says, appearing in the doorway. "Can I get in the middle?"

Daisy laughs and lifts her arm. "Yeah, come on. Always wanted to be in a Styles sandwich."

Harry happily worms his way in between them and kisses Daisy's cheek. "This is the life," he says, resting his head against Nick's chest. "Surrounded by Alphas...Hey, that sounds like a great title for a porno."

Daisy laughs. "I think you spend enough time surrounded by a certain Alpha," she says with a wink. "Wouldn't want to step in on that."

"I'm right here," Nick says, cheeks heating. There's no surrounding going on unless you count cuddling. He resents the implication.

Harry just hums, pulling one of Nick's arms from around Daisy's waist to rest across his own chest.

Daisy laughs again, shaking her head at him. "Look at that grin." She pokes at Harry's cheek, presumably at his dimples.

"Ha!" Nick looks up to find Gemma in the doorway holding her phone up. "I'm sending this one to mum. She needs to know you're running wild with Alphas all over London town."

Nick feels a bit faint at the thought. On some level he's aware that Harry tells his mom everything, and she surely knows the details of their somewhat unusual friendship. She's an Omega herself and she must have been able to smell Nick on Harry long before Nick started obsessing about it, and she's never been anything but kind and lovely. Still. Harry just laughs, though, sticking his tongue out at his sister.

"You're just jealous," he says. "Come here and cuddle instead."

So that's how Nick ends up cuddling Harry and his sister and Daisy and then also Aimee who wants in on the Alpha action, Ian who wants in on the Aimee action, and Sadie, who thinks they're a too nice smelling bunch to resist the opportunity. It's a good thing Nick's arms are long.

Jack takes a picture and puts it up on instagram with the caption "Pile of pals." Whether or not Harry's even in the picture ends up a hot topic of internet debate. The only visible parts of him is a tuft of his hair and the curls of his fingers on Nick's shoulder, his face solidly tucked in against Nick's chest and hidden from view behind Gemma's hair.

\--

Eventually the guests all go home. Gemma lingers the longest but she'll be seeing Harry during tour so she leaves too, and then it's just Nick, Harry and the softly chugging dishwasher. The sink is stacked high with all the pots and pans that wouldn't fit, but when Harry makes a move to wash them Nick grabs a hold of his sleeve and shakes his head.

"Leave it, I can wash them tomorrow."

"Seems a bit unfair. It was my party after all."

"Then doing the dishes can be my present."

"I don't need a present. I don't want you to do all the work."

Nick thinks it'll give him something to do tomorrow when the flat seems huge and empty without Harry. This weekend was a good trial run with Harry at his mum’s, and he managed just fine, but his bed has never seemed as big as it did on Friday night. He doesn't say it because he doesn't want Harry to feel guilty about doing his job or about enjoying it.

"Fine. I'll just cuddle a pillow while you do the dishes then. The blue one with a rose is very into crap telly."

"Well if you twist my arm..." Harry grins and reaches out to tug at the hem of Nick's t-shirt for seemingly no reason.

"You can't have my shirt, Harold. I'm wearing it."

Harry's grin widens and he tugs again. "That's not what you said the other night."

"Now you're being terrible and sexual again. Stop it with that face."

Nick covers Harry's face with one of his hands, Harry pulls it away. "Maybe I want to be." He's blushing again, cheeks pink and eyes glittering, but he has that stubborn tilt to his chin that Nick has learned to fear. Nick's stomach flips.

"This isn't a good time," he says but somehow his hand is still half on Harry's face. Harry's cheek is hot to the touch and Nick traces the bloom of pink with the pad of his thumb. 

Harry licks his lips and turns his face into Nick's hand. "Will it ever be?" he asks.

Nick uses his free hand to pull him closer, into a proper embrace. "Pretty much any time would be better than this. Your timing sucks, Haz." He presses their cheeks together and slips his arms around Harry's back, holding him tightly. Harry fists his hands into Nick's t-shirt and just clings for a moment, breathing shakily against Nick's jaw.

"But if you don't like my scent..." He trails off, clinging tighter.

"I'll still like you," Nick promises. "I pinky promised, remember?" He's certain that Harry's scent will be like a siren song to his sense but that's not what Harry needs to hear right now. 

Harry nods minutely, hair tickling against Nick's temple. "I just really want you to like me like _that_ ," he mumbles. "I want..." He presses in closer hiding his face into Nick's neck. "I want to spend my heat with you."

Nick's entire being short-circuits and if it wasn't for his stranglehold on Harry, he'd probably have fallen over from pure shock. "Jesus, Harry," he says shakily. "I thought you were straight."

Harry pulls back to frown at him, it mostly just looks adorable set against his still flaming cheeks. "Really?" He sounds incredulous, which Nick thinks is incredibly unfair. He went out with Taylor Swift; Nick remembers it very well. 

"You've only ever been out with girls!" Nick says. "If you've been shagging boys you certainly haven't told me about it." Probably just as well. Nick already dislikes these faceless boys for getting their hands all over Harry, which is awful of him, he well knows.

"I thought the part where I moved in with you would have been a clue." Harry chews on his lower lip until Nick pulls it out from between his teeth with his thumb.

"You used to stay with Ben and Meredith too," Nick points out.

"In their _attic_. I sleep in your bed and I wear your clothes and I cuddle you every chance I get."

"So do half the people I know."

Harry's face darkens, mouth pursing and falling into a pout.

"Oh, none of that." Nick lifts his hand to Harry's face and swipes his thumb over Harry's lower lip. "I can have friends."

Harry's mouth stays stubbornly pouted.

"Come on, love," Nick says softly, touching the corner of his mouth. "Do you really want me to be alone when you're not around? I'd get awfully lonely."

"No," Harry says sullenly. "I just want you to love me best."

Nick's heart trips and slowly it starts to sink in that Harry just offered him everything he ever wanted on a platter. Nick hides his face against Harry's temple and closes his eyes. "I do," he admits. "I do love you best."

It's terrifying to admit it out loud. He's probably holding on to Harry way too tightly but Harry doesn't seem to mind, breathing in erratic puffs against Nick's neck.

"Me too," he croaks. "I love you best too."

Well, shit.

\--

In the morning Nick wakes up wrapped around Harry with his face in Harry's hair and his knees bumping the backs of Harry's thighs. It's quite possibly the best wake up before 6 a.m. he's ever had

"'s it morning?" Harry sounds like he's mostly asleep still.

"It is for me." Nick levers himself up so that he can press a kiss to Harry's sleep-warm rosy cheek. "You can sleep for a while yet."

"D'n' wanna." Harry turns his head so that the corners of their mouths touch. The momentary contact sends a jolt from Nick's lips to his toes.

"You going to get up with me?" Harry moves and Nick shifts enough to let him roll over on his back.

"Yeah." The word drags, slow and sleepy, like a caress for Nick's ears.

"Liar." Nick brushes another kiss to Harry's cheek as he predictably dozes off again, lingering just a moment longer than is strictly necessary before he pulls back and smoothes Harry's hair back from his forehead, pressing a kiss there too.

That Harry is gorgeous in his sleep isn’t news, but somehow he's extra impossibly gorgeous today. His hair has never looked thicker and his lips never more plush. The flush of sleep has never been more deliciously pink and his eyelashes never curved more impossibly against his cheeks. Even his nose looks unusually straight and regal, nostrils flaring slightly as if he's chasing Nick's scent in his sleep. It's devastating.

"I'll miss you," he whispers, kissing the tip of Harry's nose. "A lot."

Harry makes a sleepy little noise, hand finding Nick's hip under the covers and patting it clumsily. It's actually kind of vertigo inducing, Nick realises, to think that two months from now he can maybe have this for real-- Harry warm and sleepy and lovely in his bed, his life, and his heart and not just as a friend. He might never be on time for work again.

\--

Somehow Nick manages to pull himself out of bed--a feat worthy of both a medal and a cash prize, he thinks--and when he comes out of the bathroom after a quick shower, the bed is empty and the flat smells like coffee.

He finds Harry with one hip cocked against the counter in the kitchen, staring at the coffee maker as if he's trying to make it brew faster by sheer force of will.

"Morning," Nick says, stopping in the doorway to admire the view now that he's allowed. Harry is devastating in nothing but one of Nick's t-shirts and black boxer briefs that has ridden up his thighs, long-legged and coltish, his hair a curly mess.

"Morning." Harry looks up, dimpling adorably, and holds a hand out. "Why are you all the way over there?"

Nick follows the beckon of Harry's long fingers, slipping into his embrace as if they do this every morning. His hands find a home on Harry's waist unbidden and Harry slides his arms around Nick's neck.

"Mmmm." Harry leans back, blinking sleeping at Nick. "Hiya."

He sways forward bumping their noses together briefly before he tilts his head to the side and gives Nick a kiss. It's just a brief press of mouth against mouth but it's enough to make Nick's heart trip all over itself, banging up against his breastbone.

"You have the worst timing, Harold," he mumbles but he chases Harry's mouth for another kiss and then another one, unable to stop himself.

Harry just hums, leaning into Nick's chest until Nick can feel his heartbeat. He wraps his arms fully around Harry's back, holding on to his own elbows to keep him there.

"Yeah," Harry mumbles nonsensically, pressing his mouth briefly to Nick's throat before he sways back again to look at him, letting Nick take some of his weight. He's cat-eyed and pink-mouthed this early in the morning, cheeks rosy and glowing. Nick's never seen a lovelier sight. "So," Harry says, letting the word drag while he plays with the hair at the back of Nick's neck. He smiles faintly, sucking his lower lip in between his teeth.

"So?" Nick prompts when nothing seems to be forthcoming.

Harry ducks his chin, looking up through his lashes. "So I'm in love with you."

Nick's pretty sure Harry can feel the way his heart jumps because his mouth curls up into a smile again. It would be easier, Nick thinks, if he didn't look so sleep-rumpled and delicious. No one should have to deal with Harry professing his love before 6 a.m. while looking all soft and lovely. Nick supposes he can deal with this being his cross to bear.

"Errrm. Same," he says eloquently when Harry's smile starts to wane and he remembers it's awful to be left hanging. "With the--love and stuff. I mean--I--" He's never actually said it that's the thing. He's felt it, or a shadow of this that he thought was enough at the time, but he's never actually said the words to a lover before. Not that Harry is his lover. Strictly speaking. Yet.

His train of thought is interrupted by a hot flash. Oh god, at some point in the future he will be allowed to take Harry to bed. Properly to bed. He'll get to have sex with Harry Styles. Unless he messes up before then, which he clearly might.

"You what?" Harry asks, even though he knows. Must know. 

Nick takes a deep breath and looks him straight in the eyes. "I love you." It doesn't feel as huge as he thought it would. It doesn't feel like he just opened the door wide open for Harry to break his heart, because right here in this moment he doesn't think Harry will.

"Oh." Harry makes a complicated face, sucking in a breath. "That's--" He looks wobbly and happy at the same time, eyes wet and mouth trembling with his smile. "Please don't change your mind while I'm away." He hides his face into Nick's neck, squeezing him tightly. "I love you so much, Nick."

"I won't," Nick promises. "I couldn't."

"And promise that you'll like my scent." Harry's voice breaks a little at the end and Nick's heart clenches painfully. "Promise me."

"I promise, love. I swear I'll love it.

Harry's winds his fingers hard into Nick's hair and he makes a tiny sound at the back of his throat. "I know dating me is shit but please don't leave me." 

"I'm not going anywhere." Nick presses a kiss to Harry's temple. "I'm so gone for you, love, no one else will want me."

Nick's never felt more than an Alpha than he does in this moment with a trembling Omega, _his_ trembling Omega, in his arms. Harry might not be his forever, but he's Nick's for now, and Nick will do anything to make him happy. He put it all out there and got everything in return. There's nothing left to be scared of.

"I'll call every day," Nick continues, struggling for a way to make it better. "I'll call so often you get sick of me."

"Never."

"And I'll write. Do you want letters? I'll write you letters. My handwriting's shit so you won't be able to read to them, but I'll send them anyway."

Harry sniffles, squeezing Nick even tighter. It's not very comfortable for Nick's neck, but he really couldn't care less.

"And I'll send you pictures. Every day. Fresh selfies every morning and on the hour every hour until you beg me to stop."

"I'll hold you to that."

Nick chuckles. "No one wants hourly selfies, Harry. That's ridiculous."

"I do. I like your face."

Harry straightens up and loosens his hold on Nick's neck enough for Nick to work the crick out of it. His eyes are wet and the tip of his nose is red, but he's so lovely.

"I'm sorry my timing's so shitty." Harry makes a sad little face. "I wasn't sure you wanted me back and I kept thinking it'd be better to wait until I'd come into my scent but then I just--I didn't want to leave without telling you."

"It's okay." Nick lifts his hands to cup the sides of Harry's face and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "I'll wait for you."

Harry chews at his lower lip. "You don't have to," he mumbles, not quite meeting Nick's eyes. "I know that's a shit thing to ask of you when I'm going away for ages."

Nick hasn't had sex in longer than he'd care to admit. In the past he would have, once Harry had left to conquer the world, but now he'd wait a whole lot longer than two months for Harry to be properly his.

"I want to," Nick says simply.

Harry actually shivers, it's great. "Me too. Me neither. I only want to sleep with you."

It's kind of pathetic, but it makes Nick a bit hard.

"Mmmm," Harry leans closer, sniffing at Nick's neck. "Do you have any idea how good you smell to me when you're turned on?"

"Mmmrrr," Nick says eloquently. His jeans are uncomfortably tight and his cheeks are uncomfortably hot. He knows what it does to him when Harry gets up in the morning sporting massive wood, even when he tries not to look, and he can't even imagine being able to smell it as well. (He will, he realises, once Harry's come into his scent, once he has Harry dripping and hard in his bed. Oh god.)

"Maybe I'll just blow off tour to have sex with you. I'm sure the lads will understand," Harry says dreamily, mouthing at Nick's neck.

Naturally that's when Nick's final alarm, the one that says 'get your arse to work or you'll be very late,' goes off in his pocket. He has never in his life been so tempted to pull a sickie.

"Oh." Harry straightens up, putting a tiny bit of space between them. "You have to go."

Nick swallows, letting his hands drop to Harry's hips. "Yeah."

They stare at each other for a moment before Harry pulls back. "I'll put your coffee in a travel mug," he says. Nick pretends he can't hear how wobbly he sounds.

"I'll just... grab my stuff."

It's a matter of moments to make sure he has his phone, wallet, keys, and coat and then there's just Nick and Harry and the looming awful goodbye.

"Call me when you land," Nick says, taking the proffered travel mug out of Harry's hand.

"You might be asleep." Harry's eyes are red, wetness lingering at the corners. He scuffs his toes against the floor, looking miserable.

"I don't care. You can wake me up any time."

"Okay." Harry nods jerkily, a single tear slipping down his cheek. He wipes it away angrily.

"I left my sleep shirt on the bed in case you--yeah."

"Thanks." Harry’s crying still andNick just can't take it anymore. He drags Harry into a hug with his free arm, embracing him tightly.

"Don't be sad, love," he says even though he mostly feels like crying himself. "We've done this before. It'll be fine."

For a long heartbreaking moment Harry just breathes quietly into Nick's shoulder then he sniffles out, "You'll be late for work." 

"I don't care." Nick kisses his temple. "I'll stay however long you need me to."

Harry clings for another moment before he straightens up, darting in to give Nick a quick kiss before he steps back and wipes at his eyes. He's even a pretty crier. It's decidedly unfair.

"I'm gonna need you to stay forever," he says with a wobbly smile. "But more metaphorically."

"God, I love you." Nick's almost surprised to hear himself speak but Harry just laughs, darting in for another wet lingering kiss.

"Same," he mumbles, kissing Nick again. "Now leave," Harry pushes lightly at Nick's chest. "I don't want you to get fired."

Matt will probably have Nick drawn and quartered, because at best he'll arrive just in time for the first link, but it's worth it for the way Harry walks him backwards towards the door, smiling now even if it's weak.

"I'll miss you," Nick says, pushing Harry's hair back from his face. "Lots. I like having you around."

"I'll miss you too." Harry kisses him even as he fumbles behind Nick for the doorknob. "Now go to work or I'll just cry again."

"Call me from the airport." Nick opens the door a sliver, leaning in for another kiss. "I'll call back even if I'm in the middle of a link."

"Okay." Harry touches his tongue to Nick's upper lip this time. "Love you. Bye."

He deftly pushes Nick out the door and shuts it in his face. "Love you too," Nick says to the door.

"Leave," Harry shouts. 

Nick does.

In the end he makes it to work with two minutes to spare and Matt doesn't even lecture him. He just pats Nick's shoulder, lets him get away with a thirty second opening link, and looks the other way while Nick finishes the coffee Harry made him. Nick can totally do this.


	2. New York

\--

It occurs to Nick about three weeks into Harry being away that for the first time in his life he has a proper boyfriend. He's had plenty of relationships with various levels of commitment but he's never really had a _boyfriend_ , not like this. Even though Harry is only available in all too brief snatches; a text convo here, a picture there, a ten minute call in morning and if they're lucky twenty minutes at night, Nick has never been this committed.

He struggles to put it into words, because he thinks Harry might need to hear it, but it's hard to change the habits of a lifetime and more often than not his planned declaration of love turns into teasing or a corny joke. He tries to make up for it by making sure Harry knows Nick thinks about him literally all the time, sending texts and pics and the occasional video throughout the day so that Harry will never doubt he's on Nick's mind.

"Am I shit at being your boyfriend?" Nick asks one day when they've found a golden opportunity to talk that has stretched out for over an hour. Harry's already in bed on the other side of the world and Nick has a break between commitments that he's spending stretched out his sofa. "I think I'm pretty shit at it." Harry's great at being a boyfriend, especially Nick's boyfriend. He understands Nick perfectly and seems to have a sixth sense for when Nick needs a compliment or a picture of Harry's face. Perhaps it's an Omega thing.

Harry doesn't say anything.

"You still there, love? Did you fall asleep?" It's late in the US of A and Nick should just let him sleep maybe.

"No." Harry sounds weirdly choked.

"Are you trying to smother yourself with your pillow then?"

"No." There's a moment where Nick tries to figure it out but then Harry makes a tiny little noise and _oh_.

"Are you... Are you crying, babe? Did I just... Fuck, I really am shit at this. Don't be sad, darling. I'll try harder." They've officially been boyfriends for three weeks by now and Nick's already made Harry cry twice.

"You don't have to try harder. You're already perfect." Nick's heart bleeds with how Harry's breath hitches between every word. He wants to get on the next plane out and hug Harry until his arms ache with it. "I just miss you so mu-uch."

"I miss you too, love." Now more than ever.

"And I didn't know you thought...that you thought like that."

"Like what?"

"Like boyfriends."

"Oh." Nick really is shit at it then. He needs to do better. "That's okay, right? That's what we are?" It would be kind of devastating if Harry said no, Nick realises. He better not say no.

"Yeah." Harry sounds all choked up again and someone needs to invent some piece of technology that makes it possible for Nick to hug him through the phone because he _needs_ to hold him right now.

Nick breathes again. "Good. That's good. Boyfriends. Sounds kind of ridiculous, really. Like we're twelve. Well, you nearly are but-- Maybe we should go with partner? But that's kind of-- If I introduced you like my partner people'd probably think we were in business or something. Sounds a bit clinical that." Nick's aware that he's babbling but he can't seem to stop himself.

"Mates," Harry says lowly and that does stop Nick in his tracks. Abruptly.

"I... uh... Mates? Like, like _mates_?" Mates is, that's next level. That's going from level one straight to the final boss. God, Nick wants that more than anything. "Are you...Do you think--" Nick doesn't even know what he's trying to ask. Could Harry know already? How does one know something like that anyway? It's not the most common thing, not true mates anyway, but Nick knows a lot of Alpha/Omega pairs adopt the term regardless of the physiology. They could be like that maybe. He'd like to be. It has a nice ring of _forever_.

"I want to be your mate," Harry mumbles, voice still rough. "I want to be with you always."

Nick really has the best boyfriend/partner/mate even if he's making Nick all teary-eyed and fluttery on a Sunday afternoon. "Same, love," he says softly. "Same." It's almost scary how much he means it.

\--

Two days later Nick is hit by a car. As far as car accidents go it's not very dramatic--a van bumps into him and sends him rolling down a hill--but since the bump happens on set filming a thing for the BBC and the roll involves scraping his forehead on a rock and bleeding profusely, it turns very dramatic, very fast. Despite his protests he's carted off in an ambulance and taken to the nearest hospital _without his phone_.

It's nearly four hours, twelve very small stitches along his hairline, many carefully studied bruises, and a lot of haggling about BBC safety regulations before he's reunited with phone. He’s missed calls from basically everyone he knows and a few of their mums because of course pictures of him looking broken, bloodied, and completely out of it are already all over the internet. 

He calls his mum first and has to spend nearly ten minutes convincing her to not come down from Oldham because he's fine, really. Banged up, bruised and on mandatory sick leave for the next three days, but fine, perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He then makes her promise to call everyone else in the family before he hangs up and does the same thing all over again with Collette.

He's just hung up after talking to Collette and is mentally trying to calculate the time difference to New York where Harry is when Harry calls him. Good timing.

"Hey babe," Nick says by way of greeting. "Hold up a sec."

He's just at the door to his flat and it's hard to juggle the phone, his takeaway bags and the keys with his banged up everything. His head is not yet up to phone to shoulder acrobatics. He manages to get inside without dropping anything and kicks the door shut as he lifts the phone to his ear again. "Sorry 'bout that. Just got home."

For a moment there's nothing but noise on the other end, the too loud whoosh of a hand-drier, the muffled noise of a toilet flushing and something like a loudspeaker in the distance, then Harry lets out a tiny whimper and Nick realises he's crying. He's holed up in a bathroom somewhere crying and Nick's probably to blame.

"I'm fine," he says quickly, feeling awkward and inadequate and like the only thing he ever does is cause Harry heartache. "Honest, love, I'm just a bit bruised."

Harry lets out a sob. "I want to come home," he gasps. "I want to...You're hurt and I'm not there."

The loudspeaker goes off again in the background, noise muffled by Harry's harsh breaths, but--"Jesus Harry, are you at the airport?"

"There was blood everywhere and you didn't answer and I just...I just...." Harry breaks down into sobs again and Nick feels like a right fucking idiot. He'd be a fucking mess if the tables were turned, if it was Harry broken and bloodied on the other side of the world. He should have figured Harry would find out.

"I'm fine," he repeats lamely. "I promise, love."

"I didn't know who to call." Harry's voice is nothing but a shaky whisper. "I tried Jane and Finchy, but they didn't pick up and I couldn't--" He stops to gulp for breath. "I couldn't think straight."

"So you went to the airport." Nick's heart bleeds for him.

"Yeah." Harry sniffles and gulps for breath again. "Are you really fine?"

"I'm really fine. Twelve tiny stitches and some spectacular bruises but I'm really okay."

"No concussion?"

"No concussion."

"Good." For a moment Harry just breathes thickly and Nick finally toes off his shoes, walking further into the apartment.

"Blow your nose, darling," he says. "You sound like a bulldog with hay fever."

Harry chuckles wetly and then there's the sound of paper ripping and Harry repeatedly blowing his nose. "Are you sure you're fine?" Harry asks when he's done.

"I'm sure, love."

"That's good," Harry says ruefully. "Because I forgot my passport."

Nick laughs. "Probably for the best. Would have been a bit of a circus if you'd gotten on a plane."

"Yeah." Harry sighs. "Still want to though. Like, I want to be there when you're hurt. I want to take care of you."

Nick wants that too. He’s not in need of caretaking, but he’s pouty and achy and really just wants to be with Harry. "Cook me dinner and fetch my slippers like a good husband," Nick jokes, squashing down the pang of nearly palpable longing.

"You know I would," Harry says simply and yeah, Nick does know , because Harry always does.

"You take such good care of me," Nick mumbles, almost embarrassed about it. It's always been true, though; out of the two of them Harry is by far the more sensible and nurturing.

"You'll make me cry again," Harry warns but he sounds pretty happy about it.

God, Nick's life is so absurd. It hits him at the strangest moments that they're really doing this now that somehow, insanely, they're attempting to be _more_ with Harry on the other side of the world and Nick in London. It's by far the craziest thing he's ever done and he's just so bloody _happy_ about it.

"You can cry at me any time," he says and surprisingly he means it from the bottom of his heart. He's never been at his best with overzealous displays of emotions but it's okay when it's Harry.

"I'd rather not if that's okay," Harry says wryly. "I swear I've cried more in the last four weeks than I've done in my entire life. I fully understand mood swings now and I'm not a fan."

Nick chuckles. Most of the time he manages to forget about Harry changing his meds and coming into his scent out of self-preservation, but Harry's moods have been a bit volatile lately. It's been over ten years since Nick changed his own meds, but he still remembers that helpless feeling of his emotions not always being his own.

"I did a lot of crying about food," Nick admits. "Crisps not crispy enough? I cried. Chips not salty enough? I cried. I once caused such a scene over a soggy burger bap I was asked to leave. Bit of a low point that."

"You did not."

"Did too." Nick still blushes just thinking about it. "You know you've hit rock bottom when you're asked to leave McDonalds because you're causing a scene."

Harry laughs. "Soggy baps are disgusting though."

"I know, right? I was totally wronged."

"You were." In the background the hand-drier goes off again and Nick realises he should probably let Harry go. He's still not sure what time it is in NYC but it's probably not laze about an airport toilet and talk to Nick time.

"You should probably try to get back into town," he says. "Before someone spots you and causes mass hysteria."

"Yeah." Harry sighs. "Are you sure you're okay?" 

Nick smiles faintly, happy that Harry can't see his grimace as he sits down. He's really starting to feel the tumble down the hill and his hip is throbbing where the car hit him. "I'm good, yeah. Gonna enjoy some Thai food and kick my feet up for a bit."

Harry's quiet for a minute. "If we didn't have a show tonight I would come see you," he says softly. "Even if it was just for a few hours. Maybe I could... maybe I could come this weekend?"

Nick has a copy of Harry's show schedule somewhere and he's pretty sure they have shows every night but Saturday.

"Don't be silly, love," he says just as softly. "Not that I don't want to see you, I really do, but with the flights and the time difference it'd literally only be for a few hours barely enough time for a cuddle and an episode of Bake Off." 

"Would be worth it," Harry says fiercely.

Nick licks his lips. God, he wants to see Harry but-- "I think it'd just make it worse," he says lowly. "To have you for an hour or two. It wouldn't be enough."

"I just want to see you," Harry mumbles. "Make sure you're okay and like--" He blows out a breath. "I just want to smell like you again. Just for a bit. Made a right arse of myself yesterday because Liam touched my shirt. I just couldn't... I didn't want his scent on me. I only want to smell like you."

It's really uncomfortable to go instantly blindingly hard in skinny jeans, Nick realises, and also embarrassing because that was not--Harry didn't mean it like that.

"Shut it, Styles," he chides. "You're making me all fluttery."

"Mmm. I like that. I want to make you fluttery always."

In the background the loudspeaker lets out a final boarding call, reminding Nick that Harry's still in a semi-public place.

"Turn me into a right butterfly, you do," Nick admits. "It's awful. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"It's more like my proudest achievement." Harry sounds sincere, that's the thing. Ridiculous popstar.

"I can think of a few things that should probably be a bit higher up that list," Nick says fondly. "Like, I don't know, number one albums and sold out world tours."

Harry makes a dismissive noise. "You're more important."

Nick actually gapes at the brazenness of that statement. Nick is not more important than One Direction. That's ludicrous.

There's another announcement in the background and Harry lets out a low curse. "Shit, I should really get back to the hotel. It's a bit later than I thought."

"Yeah, go ahead then. Send me a text when you get there, yeah?"

"I will." There's a rustle that Nick thinks is Harry standing up. "Okay, doing this. Miss you, love you, bye."

"You too. Bye, bye, bye, bye."

Harry hangs up and Nick's left with the ringing silence of his flat. Strangely, it feels sterile all of a sudden, devoid of all warmth, while in reality it's a lovely homey mess. Nick stares at his forgotten takeout and misses Harry so much his chest aches with it. He doesn't let himself miss him like this very often. It's pointless to indulge in it like this. It’s better to fill his life with happy things than sit around at home missing Harry Styles, but today he's tired and sore and if he's honest with himself, kind of shit-scared for no good reason.

He should have taken Harry up on his offer. He's a right idiot for shooting it down. So what if a few hours would make him miss Harry more. At least he'd have those few hours instead of no hours at all. Unless--

\--

"I just did something crazy."

"What? Why? Grim?" Aimee sounds like she just woke up.

"Yeah, it's me." He bounces on his heels which is really kind of uncomfortable for his bruises but it's either that or vibrating right out of his skin. "And I've lost my mind completely."

"That is not news." Aimee yawns. "What did you do this time?"

"I'm going to New York."

There's a brief silence. "New York? Why? No wait, Harry's there, isn't he?"

"Yupppp." Nick's stomach swoops. Holy shit, he's actually doing this.

"Wow." Aimee's quiet for a moment. "So how hard did you hit your head exactly?"

"Didn't hit my head. I just scraped a bit."

"You're going to New York to see teen pop sensation Harry Styles on a whim. I'd say a concussion is likely."

"I don't have a concussion, Aims. I'm just... you know." In love. Mad. Madly in love.

"It's 1am, Grim. Trust me, I don't know shit."

"I just miss him, that's all, and I have an unexpected holiday courtesy of the BBC so I figured I might as well."

Aimee blows out a breath that sounds a lot like "why am I even friends with you." "And you're telling me this in the middle of the night why?"

"Because I need a ride to the airport tomorrow morning. Around half five?"

"Are you out of your mind?" Aimee's exclamation is loud enough to provoke a sleepy murmur from Ian. "It's just Grim, babes," she says. "He wants to frolic with the popstar and needs a ride to the airport at half fucking five in the morning."

There's brief murmured discussion that Nick is not privy to because she clearly holds the phone away but then she comes back to say, "We'll take you, loser. Now go the fuck to sleep."

She hangs up before he can thank her, but that's okay. He can grovel in the morning.

\--

It's just after noon on Wednesday when Nick stumbles off the plane at JFK, beanie pulled down over his brow and weekend bag slung over his shoulder. The only reason he's still on his feet, he reckons, are the prescription painkillers he popped on the plane combined with the surge of adrenaline that makes him feel like he's floating two feet above the ground; eight sleepless hours on a plane did not do his banged up body any favours.

He feels incredibly conspicuous, as if there's a neon sign above his head announcing his intentions, and he keeps his head down and shoulders up even though no one has as much as glanced twice in his direction. He turns his phone on while in line for customs, heart clenching when he finds two voicemails and about fifteen texts from Harry of increasingly worried tone.

He replies to the last one with: _Sorry darling, slept for a hundred years. I'm fine. Talk later. Xx_

Harry replies with a row of xs fifteen seconds later and Nick's still smiling as he steps up to the counter to make his case for entry into the United States. He hopes it doesn't make him look more loony than usual.

Fifteen minutes and a surprisingly customs check later, Nick walks through the doors to the arrivals hall to find the sun flooding in through the windows from what looks to be a clear blue sky. It's quite the shock after the gloomy depths of the airport, and he unhooks his shades from the pocket of his jacket and slips them over his eyes.

He's in New York. He's actually in New York. There are yellow cabs lined up at the curb to the right of the nearest exit and everywhere he looks boasts an American brand name. His stomach swoops with equal parts nerves and excitement as he tries to find a quiet corner for a call. He usually passes his time in foreign airports trying to spot fellows Brits, either through looks or scents, but right now he'd rather avoid anyone that might recognise him. A sneaky pic wouldn't be the end of the world. He has other friends in New York and can arrange for a few instagram photo-ops to muddy the waters. He'd rather not alert his friends to his presence, though, because, well, he's a dick and would like to spend all his limited time with Harry.

He finally finds a corner that suits his needs by the men's toilets and pulls his phone out again, bringing Lou Teasdale's name up on the screen. He can't remember if he's ever actually called her -- they text sometimes, usually about Harry's whereabouts, but he can't remember ever calling her. Their text convo is an endless exchange of _Is Harry with you?_ that’s equal parts hilarious and sad. He showed it to Harry once and he laughed so hard he choked on his own spit. Nick still wishes he got video of that.

Lou freaks out. She absolutely loses it. If Nick ever doubted she was a good friend to Harry he doesn't anymore. Within minutes she’s devised a Bond-worthy plan to sneak him into the hotel unseen and set it into motion with the help of Cal.

"The lads are doing some press thing right now," she says. "But they'll be back in an hour or so and then Harry's free until about six when we have to leave for the arena...Are you coming, by the way?"

Nick hasn't thought that far. "Depends on what Harry wants," he says.

Lou snorts. "He won't let you out of his sight if he gets to decide."

Nick likes the sound of that but a crowded arena is probably not the best place to hide. "We'll see, I guess. Might tag along for one of the shows at least. Will probably be out like a light by six today though; I haven't exactly gotten much sleep."

"Yeah, I bet. How are you really? Harry showed me the pictures."

"I'm okay. Looked much worse than it was." Nick had ample time to study his own ghastly image while he waited for Aimee and Ian this morning, and it's no wonder everyone freaked out; he looks to be at death's door in half the pics and the first articles to go with them were ominously vague. "Bit achy now, though; I've got bruises in some interesting places."

"I can imagine. Okay, I better go sort things out with hotel security. Text me when you get into Manhattan and I’ll tell you where to go."

"Will do. Thanks for the help."

"No problem. Bye."

"Bye."

Nick lowers the phone and takes a deep breath. It's really happening.

\--

The hotel security guard that meets Nick in the parking garage is an Alpha who properly looks the part with a strong brow, wide shoulders and meaty thighs. His scent makes Nick's nose prickle and he's a bit apprehensive as he hands over his passport for an identity check, but the guard, who introduces himself as Mike, just gives it a cursory glance before he leads Nick into the bowels of the building. 

Nick feels a bit like a secret agent as he trails after Mike and his impeccable suit down a maintenance corridor and into a service lift, but he supposes he's more like the president's secret mistress than James Bond. Mike could probably be Bond, even though he looks more like the bad guy's henchman; he has that Alpha strut down pat, effortlessly owning the space around him. Nick never really managed that, he doesn't think. Usually when people get a whiff of him they look surprised, because he doesn't fit the stereotypical Alpha mould and he hasn't tried to act the part since his teens. 

Mike is not the chatty type, standing in a corner of the lift with his hands clasped before him, and for once Nick can't think of a single thing to say. It's boiling hot with the beanie still tugged down over his forehead and his jacket on, so he probably looks like a right sweaty mess, but Mike's not even looking at him, eyes fixed on nothing at all. He's probably done this before, Nick reckons, snuck someone in for a clandestine affair or a secret meeting. His silence is probably a courtesy to Nick rather than a rebuke, but it still feels like one.

Lou's room is at the end of a long, plushly-carpeted corridor lined by ornate lamps, art, and side tables with freshly cut flowers. Nick catches a glimpse of himself in a gilded mirror they pass by and he really does look a sweaty mess, with spots of high colour on his cheeks and a chin covered in stubble. He's in dire need of a shower and a nap, but according to Lou's latest text he has maybe fifteen minutes before Harry's due back and no time for either. At least Harry won't mind if he's smelly.

Mike stops abruptly to knock on the second to last door and Nick is so lost in his thoughts he nearly bumps into him.

"Sorry," he mumbles, taking a step back and out of Mike's personal zone, some Alphas are tetchy about stuff like that.

"Don't worry about it." Mike gives him a vague smile that makes Nick feel as if he's three inches tall when in reality he has about two inches on Mike.

Thankfully that's when Lou pulls the door open and saves Nick from further awkward interaction.

"Hiiiii," she thrills, looking absolutely ecstatic to see Nick. "Oh my god, you're really here."

"Yup," Nick says, grinning back at her. "In the flesh, such as it is."

She laughs. "Oh, shut up you. Come on in." She steps aside to let Nick through.

"Thanks for the escort," Nick says to Mike as he ducks in under Lou's arm. "Been real nice."

Lou laughs again and slaps his back as he passes before she leans in to exchange words with Mike that Nick really doesn't care about. Now that he's made it this far he's absolutely exhausted, dropping his bag on the floor and collapsing into an empty armchair, arms and legs akimbo.

"Awww," Lou says, coming into the room proper and leaning against the wall. "You look beat."

"I think I'm dead." Nick pulls the beanie off and runs his fingers through his sweat-damp flattened quiff. "Or close to it at any rate. Tell Harry I loved him, okay?"

Lou makes a happy little noise and when Nick looks up she's positively beaming, hands clutched to her chest. "You said the L-word. I never thought I'd see the day."

"Ugh." Nick flaps a hand at her; he's actually too tired to be embarrassed. "I'm jetlagged and emotionally compromised." Nick doesn't even have to look to know Lou's still beaming at him. He can feel it. He glances at her anyway and he was right, the corners of her mouth almost touch her ears. "You look creepy when you smile like that." It's mostly a lie; she looks quite lovely with her white blonde, lavender tinged hair and sun-kissed cheeks, despite the megawatt smile.

She sticks her tongue out at him. "You don't mean that."

He does sort of mean that, but mostly because it's starting to dawn on him that she knows. She _knows_. Before fuck o'clock this morning when Aimee and Ian arrived to pick him up no one in his life knew about him and Harry, and now it feels like everyone does and it's _terrifying_. 

"Do too." It comes out sullen and childish and she laughs at him again.

"Awww, the toddler needs a nap, I know that voice."

He sticks his tongue out but she ignores him and pulls her chiming phone out of her pocket. She reads the messages and then types out a quick reply with her tongue between her teeth.

"Harry'll be another forty-five minutes," she says. "Plenty of time to drape you across his bed like a French girl."

"Hey." To his alarm Nick actually blushes. "I'll have you know we're strictly PG rated."

"And that'll last?"

"Ugh. I don't know. Shut up." He flails a hand at her because he's not currently emotionally equipped to think about having sex with Harry without being in danger of spontaneously combusting. It's the sort of subject he likes to approach carefully and in private and if he's honest with himself even his day dreams about Harry are depressingly PG rated. He thinks about Harry when he's getting himself off, but it's usually indistinct thoughts of Harry being hard and wet and wanting, not elaborate fantasies of specific acts. He spent so long talking himself out of the attraction that it's hard to change his mind frame and give in to it.

"Well, I'm certainly going to pretend you'll do nothing but hold hands on top the covers," Lou says as she walks over so she can rummage around on top of a dresser weighed down by hair products and make up. "But I doubt that's what'll actually happen. I know that boy and you have quite the reputation, you know." She gives him a sly glance.

"Lies and slander, all of it." Lately it has been anyway. He's been pining over Harry for far longer than he'd like to admit to himself. He hasn't been totally celibate, but meeting Harry put a real damper on his dating life and he's never once regretted it.

"Mmhmm." Lou sounds sceptical, which might be because her twin sister once walked in on him three times with two different guys at a party. That was a long time ago, though; he's a little more discreet and discerning these days (and a little more prone to pining). "Ah, there it is." Lou turns around, triumphantly brandishing a keycard. "Let's get you settled then."

"Oh, okay." Nick pushes himself more upright with some effort. "You sure he'll be okay with it?"

"Of course he will." Lou rolls her eyes. "He's at your place all the time, isn't he?"

"Yeah but that's different. He--" Nick cuts himself off, frowning.

"He what?" Lou's poking around on the dresser again and not looking at him.

"Err...Lives there? Sometimes." He swallows. "Most of the time."

"Awwww." Lou grins at him. "I'm sure he'll be fine with you checking out his sock drawer then. Come on now, up you go."

"I'm not going to check his sock drawer," Nick whines as he reluctantly shoulders his bag again.

"Of course not." Lou pats his arms. "Put the beanie back on."

Nick very reluctantly pulls the beanie back down over his hair while Lou checks the corridor. It feels a bit like he's in a low budget spy movie with not enough money for a car chase, so they're doing mad dash down a corridor instead.

"All clear."

Lou walks out into the corridor and after taking a deep breath Nick does too. This whole thing is ridiculous really. He's going to get caught and the internet will explode with rumours and he's going to be singlehandedly responsible for ruining Harry's reputation. He's an idiot.

"Is it far?" Nick asks when they reaches the end of the corridor and turns a corner into a new one. It feels like they already covered miles of carpeted floor.

"No, it's just at the end of the hall." Lou doesn't sound the slightest bit worried.

They pass by a small lobby where two elderly ladies are waiting for the lift. Nick carefully averts his face even though they're not part of his or Harry's demographic and seem to be speaking Russian. Old ladies use twitter too, or so Nick's heard.

"Here we are," Lou finally says, stopping outside a door and inserting the keycard. "Casa de Hazza."

Nick ducks inside as soon as the door is open enough, letting out a breath of relief. Lou laughs and hands him the keycard. Nick squeezes it hard enough for the edges to dig into his palm and swallows thickly. 

"Do you think I was stupid coming here?" he asks. He's tired and aching and sweating beneath the beanie and suddenly it all feels like a horrible mistake.

"Of course not." Lou doesn't hesitate. "He'll be over the moon."

"But what if I'm spotted?"

She shrugs. "So what? It's not exactly a secret that you’re friends. The papers will just write the same drivel they always do and the fans will still think Harry's fucking Liam."

Nick snorts. It's inevitable he guesses, the ways the fans have latched onto the only Alpha and Omega pair, but it drives Harry nuts sometimes, and Nick is a little tired of the fans waging a war on his twitter mentions.

"I'm happy you're here," Lou says, darting in to press a kiss to Nick's cheek. "I really think he needs to see you. He was a mess yesterday and I don't think he got much sleep."

Nick thinks of all the missed calls and messages he had when he landed and feels like shit. He should have told Harry something in advance. He should have figured he'd be worried.

There's some noise further down the corridor and Lou glances that way before taking a step back. "Might be fans," she explains. "See you later, yeah."

"Of course."

Lou starts walking down to the corridor and she's only a few steps away when a girl squeals her name. Nick lets the door fall shut and takes a couple of deep calming breaths. It's okay. He made it. 

\--

Harry's room is larger than Lou's. It has a nice spacious bathroom and a proper sitting area by the panorama windows, and the floor is dominated by a large bed with a nice burgundy bedspread and a mix of gold and burgundy throw pillows. As far as hotel rooms go it's pretty standard even if it's luxurious. 

It's surprisingly tidy, the only reminders of Harry's presence being his guitar propped up against the wall and a few scattered items of clothing. Nick picks a t-shirt off one of the chairs and presses it to his face, inhaling until he feels dizzy with it. God, he missed Harry's smell. It makes him feel a bit creepy, so he drops the shirt back on the chair and slips his bag off his shoulder. He takes the beanie off next, shrugs out of his jacket and toes off his boots, and then he just stands there, staring blindly at the windows. 

He's so tired, that's the thing. Everything aches and he feels like he could sleep for a year. He turns around to eye the bed, looking so nice and soft and lovely, like it's made of angel down and sweet dreams. Surely lying down for a minute is better than standing around and working himself into a nervous frenzy. He's just going to stretch out for a bit, no harm done.

Unsurprisingly, he's asleep before his head even hits the pillows.

He sort of wakes up an indeterminable time later when Harry crawls into bed with him and burrows into his arms.

"Haz?"

"Shhh," Harry murmurs. "Nap now."

"'Kay." Nick finds Harry's hip without opening his eyes, patting it lightly. "Surprise."

Harry makes a noise against Nick's throat, squeezing him hard around the middle. Nick thinks that means he's pleased but he falls back to sleep before he can ask.

The next time he wakes up Harry is curled up around him with one hand on Nick's chest and his face mashed into Nick's shoulder, fast asleep. It's good, Nick thinks, as it gives him a moment to deal with the fact that he's here, in New York, in Harry's hotel room, in Harry's bed, with Harry. It's a lot to process.

Before this Nick's only stab at a proper romantic gesture was a trip to London when he was still at uni to surprise the guy he was seeing at the time. The guy was indeed very surprised to see him, as he was receiving head from someone else at the time of Nick's romantic reveal. It was not a great moment. Nick has hopes this will turn out better -- at the very least Harry is not currently engaging in a sexual act with someone else, seeing as he's right here, drooling on Nick's shoulder.

Nick brings a hand up, covering Harry's on his chest. It's strange really, that he didn't even think of Richard and that whole fucked up weekend until now, because it's hung like a shadow over his dating life for years, always reminding him what it feels like to put yourself out there and get a kick to the heart in response. He spent the entire plane ride fretting over the millions of things that could go wrong with this, but not even once did he even consider he might find Harry with someone else. Thinking about it now makes his stomach roll.

"I'm so glad you're not sucking someone else's cock right now." He doesn't even realise he's said it out loud until Harry stirs and lets out a string of noise against Nick's shoulder that might translate to: "what was that?"

"Nothing," Nick says quickly, squeezing Harry's fingers. God, he's such a loser.

Harry, of course, doesn't let it go. He drowsily pushes himself up to frown at Nick. "Did you just say you're happy I'm not sucking someone else's cock?" He looks adorably confused and sleep-rumpled, hair messy and cheeks pink.

Those pink cheeks will probably be the death of Nick, he reckons. If Harry's going to look this rosy sweet and amazing every time he wakes up, Nick's heart is simply going to explode from emotional overload. It's way too much for one man to handle. He reaches up to touch Harry’s cheek, cupping the warmth of it in his palm and rubbing the pad of his thumb against the corner of Harry's frowny mouth.

"I am really happy you're not sucking someone else's dick right now," he admits. "If that's the sort of thing you want to do in the future I won't stop you of course but--" 

"Nick?" Harry cuts him off, still looking a bit frowny but more like he's fond. It's a fond frown, Nick is endeared.

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

Nick will not be cowed by Harry's fond frown or darling cheeks. He soldiers on. "I'd just like some advance warning, that's all. If that's something you--" Harry's frown turns thundery again. "In the future, I mean. I don't think you want to _right now_ obviously but things change and I'd really--" Nick swallows. "I'd really like to know in advance when... _if_... you change your mind about us."

Richard went to another Alpha, that's the thing, a proper one with muscled shoulders and meaty thighs. The kind that frowns at Nick at the gym and used to push him around in high school. The kind that stars in every movie ever made about Alphas and stares down from every poster advertising an Alpha brand.

Harry just stares at him for the longest of whiles, as if he's looking into Nick's brain and seeing all the crazy there. It's a chilling thought, but in the end Harry simply nods. "Okay," he says. "I promise."

"Pinky promise?" Nick's hand shake a bit as he offers it, pinky out. Harry kindly pretends to not notice.

"Pinky promise," Harry agrees solemnly, linking their pinkies together and pulling lightly. "Are you done having a breakdown now?"

Nick lets go of Harry's pinky in favour of touching his cheek again. He can't stay away, with it being so flushed and lovely and real.

"For now, yeah." Nick was supposed to surprise Harry with his person rather than his emotional baggage, but Harry seems to be taking it all in stride. He's used to dealing with Nick by now.

"Good." Harry shifts so that he's still braced over Nick but with his hands cupping Nick's face. He bends forward and kisses the edge of the plaster covering the stitches on Nick's forehead. "How's your head?"

"It's good."

"And your cheek?" Harry's lips are feathery soft.

"Good."

"And your mouth." The kiss is barely there, a whisper of skin and breath.

"I'm not sure," Nick murmurs, sliding his hand into Harry's hair. "You better check again."

Harry does, kissing Nick over and over, soft and gentle at first but then harder and deeper until he sinks his hands into Nick's hair and licks Nick's breath right out of his lungs. They kiss for what feels like ages, until Nick's lips are buzzing with it and his breath comes out in short, jerky puffs.

"Fuck," Harry whispers and Nick silently seconds it because he's never heard Harry's voice sound more wrecked.

Of course that's when the phone on the nightstand trills, making both of them jump. Harry fumbles for the receiver and pulls it to his ear, nearly sending the phone tumbling to the floor.

"Hello," he says and then after a moment. "Okay, thank you." He leans over Nick to put the receiver back and then flops down on the bed next to him. "So," he says, blowing out a breath. "My timing still sucks."

Nick laughs, covering Harry's hand with his own. He feels a bit like he's high and a lot like he's horny, but he can wait. He can wait however long.

There's a knock on the door and Harry blows out another breath, levering himself up and off the bed. "It's room service," he explains, running a hand through his hair and straightening his t-shirt. "I pre-ordered before I got into bed with you. I hope burgers are okay."

"Always," Nick assures him, scooting up the bed to make sure his feet aren't visible from the door. It would be pretty damning if someone saw his size eleven feet in Harry's bed considering the fact that Harry looks freshly kissed and there's dinner for two.

There's a brief murmured conversation and then Harry comes back into the room with a tray on wheels, holding covered plates, glasses and an assortment of condiments and drinks.

"Fancy," Nick says, pushing himself off the bed with a lot less ease than Harry displayed. He's probably well overdue another painkiller.

"You know me," Harry says, shifting the plates onto the table by the windows. "I'm a fancy guy."

He doesn't much look like a fancy guy with his well-kissed mouth, flushed cheeks and simple jeans and t-shirt. He looks good, though, so good, and Nick doesn't think he can be faulted for the way he wraps his arms around Harry's waist from behind and presses a kiss to his neck.

"That's good," Nick murmurs, kissing Harry's ear and squeezing him a little harder. "Only date fancy guys, me. Can't be dealing with regular slobs. If it's not luxury hotels, champagne, and caviar all the time, count me out."

Harry laughs and wriggles around in the circle of Nick's arms, beaming at him. "Did I mention how really fucking ecstatic I am that you're here?"

"I don't think you did actually." Nick hadn’t really given him a chance.

"I'm really fucking ecstatic that you're here." Harry sways in closer to give Nick a kiss, clinging to his shoulders. "Nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

"Who said it was for you, huh?" Nick kisses Harry's smiling mouth, smoothing his hands down Harry's lean back on his hips . "Popped over to see Lou. Thought I'd be polite to drop by your room."

"Idiot." Harry kisses him again, soft and slow. "Will you take me to bed after the show tonight?" he asks lowly when he pulls back. "Please."

Nick's heart jumps in time with his dick. "I think that can be arranged," he croaks. "No problem."

"Good." Harry kisses him again.

\--

"So what are you going to do while at the arena?" Harry asks. "Unless you changed your mind." 

Harry obviously doesn't care about his reputation, trying to get Nick to come with him to the show. There's been a fair bit of pouting about Nick's refusal over the frankly amazing burgers. Harry is the only person Nick knows who can pout while chewing.

"I'm going to go wild, me. Text some pals. Maybe post something vague to twitter. Instagram my bruises. Maybe have a shower."

"No." Harry looks mulish.

"No instagram?" Nick guesses. He probably shouldn't. Harry's fans are wily they'll probably be able to link a single corner of tile or wallpaper to Harry's hotel from stock images. It's happened before.

"No shower."

"But I stink."

"No, you don't. You can shower later." Harry looks at Nick through his lashes, eyes dark. "After."

"After wha--Oh." Nick needs to start wearing baggier jeans.

Harry smiles beatifically. "Exactly." He purses his lips. "You could change your shirt though."

"See. I do smell." Nick sniffs suspiciously at his armpit.

"No." Nick can actually hear the eye roll. "That's not why."

But of course. "You want my shirt."

"Always."

Nick considers it. "Do you think that's a good idea? If someone snapped me at the airport or on the flight or whatever your fans are going to put that together within seconds."

Nick knows there’s a whole section of fandom or whatever that’s really into the thought of Nick and Harry being a thing. They call it “gryles” and write fanfiction about it and everything. They're probably already on the case.

"I don't care."

"Maybe you should." One of them has to worry about these things and Nick is good at worrying.

Harry chews at his lower lip. He looks a bit like Nick kicked his puppy. "I won't wear it if it bothers you," he says.

"Haz--"

"No, don't. I don't want you to give in because you made me sad or something. Noodles make me sad. Mum says it's the med change." Harry sniffs, looking away. "I'm just going to--yeah."

Harry disappears into the bathroom, closing the door quietly behind him, and Nick feels a bit like the Grinch that stole Christmas. It's just that he does think he's right to worry about these things. Maybe not this thing in particular, since his t-shirt is a really just a generic white thing from Tesco or summat, but other stuff, more obvious stuff. Stuff like him being here at all and Harry living in his flat. They should talk about that because other people already do.

Nick gets his bag and finds a new t-shirt, changing quickly. Clock is ticking, the car will be here to pick Harry up in fifteen minutes and he wants Harry to leave in his shirt.

The toilet flushes and then the water runs for a while before Harry comes out, looking red-eyed and sheepish. "Sorry," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. "It's a bit shit, this."

"You don't have to apologise." Nick holds the shirt out. "Here."

Harry takes it, balling it up between his hands. "I don't have to." His lower lip is trembling again. Nick really needs to stop making him cry. "You're here. That's the important bit."

"Come here." Nick tugs Harry into his arms, balled up t-shirt and all, and kisses his temple. "It's a generic white shirt," he says. "It could literally be any white shirt in the world. I was just being dumb."

"No you weren't." Harry sniffs. "I _should_ care more about stuff like this."

"We'll figure it out," Nick assures him. "I'm good at winging it under pressure if it comes to that."

"I'll follow your lead then," Harry mumbles, tucking his face into Nick's neck for proper cuddle.

Beyonce help them both.

\--

Harry is gone for approximately _a hundred years_. Nick is not good with solitude at the best of times and with a heady mix of nerves and anticipation it's all he can do to keep himself from climbing the walls. 

He texts a little with Aimee, washes his face, removes his contacts, smears salve over the bruises turning a nice mottled black and blue, and changes into clean boxer briefs and a shirt to sleep in. He figures he won't be wearing either for long (oh god) but it's the thought that counts.

He turns down the covers and removes the million throw pillows, pulls the curtains, turns on the bedside lights and puts glasses of water on the nightstands.

Then he climbs the walls for a bit.

When Harry finally does come back Nick has tucked himself into bed and is sitting with his back against the headboard reading the same paragraph in the paperback he brought over and over again, trying to look casual and not at all like he's had a pulse of 187 since Harry texted to say he was on his way.

Harry looks exhausted, dwarfed by Nick's oversized t-shirt. His hair is wet and in disarray. He must have showered at the arena, then.

"Hiya," he says, face lighting up at sight of Nick.

"Hi, love. Did you have a good show?"

"Yeah, it was great."

Harry comes over, lifts Nick's glasses off his face, drops a kiss on his mouth, and then haphazardly returns the glasses. Nick straightens them, smiling up at Harry. His pulse is still about 187, but it's just Harry, isn't it? He's pretty easy to please. Nick's not going to ruin him for sex. Probably.

"I'm just going to brush my teeth." Harry shifts his feet, biting enticingly on his lower lip. "Then I'll join you, yeah?"

"Okay."

There is something really awkward, Nick thinks, about the moments before you have sex once you've decided that sex is on the table. It's like when you take someone home from a club and you realise once you enter the bedroom that you're a lot more sober than you thought and that the low-energy bulb in the bedside lamp is not doing anyone any favours.

Harry of course doesn't seem to have gotten that memo, giving Nick a blinding grin and a kiss on the cheek before he disappears into the bathroom, leaving Nick hanging with his pre-sex awkwardness. He's certainly awkward enough for both of them.

Harry comes back with his hair brushed back from his face, barefoot and jeans-less. Nick follows the long lines of his legs down to the tattoos on his ankles and his funny looking feet and then back up to his face. He's still wearing Nick's t-shirt, the hem just covering the legs of his pants. It makes him look wildly, impossibly young.

"Come here," Nick says, holding his arms out.

Harry comes easily, crawling onto the bed and into Nick's lap, effectively pinning his hips to the bed with the covers.

"Hi," he says, looking happy and nervous at the same time, hands coming to rest on Nick's shoulders.

"Hi," Nick echoes, putting his hands on Harry's thighs, fingertips just grazing the legs of his pants. Harry shivers.

Nick doesn't feel particularly sexy, dressed in a stretched old t-shirt with his glasses slipping down his nose, but Harry is looking at him like he's the centrefold in a naughty magazine, eyes dark and intense. He slips his thumbs in under the hem of Harry's pants, rubbing gentle circles into his skin.

"Is your head okay?" Harry lifts a hand to trace the edges of the plaster on Nick's forehead.

"Yeah." It's tender and the bruise will probably cover half his face eventually, but he's done worse to himself getting dressed. He once gave himself a concussion walking into a wall.

"I was so scared." Harry leans in, kissing Nick's forehead gently.

"I'm sorry." Nick tilts his head back, chasing Harry's mouth for a kiss.

"Not your fault." Harry kisses him, soft and gentle, with one hand spread over the side of Nick's face.

"I should have gotten someone to call you." He can't even imagine what he'd feel like waking up to pictures of Harry covered in blood and sensationalist headlines.

Harry pulls back to look at him, holding Nick's face in both his hands now. "You got on an eight hour flight to see me, that's--" He bites at his lip. "God, Nick, you're _here_."

"Well." Nick slips his hands up to curl around Harry's hips. "It wasn't a completely selfless endeavour, you know. I'm pretty happy about it too. I mean, I could never afford a hotel like this on my own. Bit of a shame I have to share the bed with a diva popstar, but as long as he keeps to his side, I suppose it'll be okay."

"Idiot." Harry kisses him. "I love you."

Will Nick ever get tired of hearing it? Signs points to no. "Good." He kisses Harry again, licking deep into his minty mouth. "I love you too."

It doesn't take too much effort to roll Harry over on his back, reversing their positions. Harry goes willingly, laughing up at Nick with his hair curling a wild halo against the pillows. Nick hopes he never cuts it again.

"What do you want?" Nick asks, sliding his hand over Harry's stomach to cup his hip again.

"You." Harry pulls him down into a kiss and then another one.

"That's good," Nick murmurs when they pull apart, breathless and grinning. "I wasn't planning on scouring the hotel corridors for someone else to get you off."

"Oh god." Harry's hip twitches up and he kisses Nick hard enough to knock his glasses askew.

Nick laughs at him, albeit breathlessly. "Does that get you hot and bothered, huh? Me getting you off."

"Yeah." Harry looks debauched already, cheeks flushed and lips red. He reaches out to straighten Nick's glasses, letting his hand linger on Nick's face. "I've been thinking about this for a while, you know."

"How long?" Nick's chest feels tight, the full weight of Harry's attention is a lot.

"Long." Harry smiles faintly, running his fingers into Nick's hair. "Since before I met you."

"No way."

"You're a famous person, you know. You've been on telly and everything." Harry's flushed pink now, adorable in his embarrassment. "And it wasn't--I sort of talked myself out of it once I got to know you because it was enough, being your friend."

"God, you're awful." Nick has to kiss him a bit for that, slipping his hand fully in under Harry's shirt to thumb at his stomach.

Harry laughs when he pulls back, breathless and happy. "It _was_. Everyone else treated me like a kid or like some kind of superstar but you never did. I could always be just Harry with you."

"Shut _up_ ," Nick whines. It's not like it was intentional. Nick just meets a lot of famous people, that's all.

"Won't." Harry's looking stubborn now. He finds Nick's hand on his stomach and twines their fingers together, holding on tight. "It's important."

"Okay, then." Nick settles on his side with his head on the pillows, tugging on Harry's hand until he rolls over too, putting them face to face. "Now you can tell me."

Harry tangles their legs together and scoots closer to give Nick a kiss. Nick doesn't think that's the best way to go about talking, but Harry seems pleased and that's the important part.

"You have such amazing hands," Harry says, almost dreamily, he's got Nick's hand between both of his now, carefully examining every joint. "That's how I--do you remember that night when we all got pissed at Jack's?"

"Yeah." It's a few months ago now, but Nick's not going to forget that hangover for a while. He woke up sideways on the bed with his head on Pixie's thigh and Harry snoring against the back of his knees. They’d had fun though.

"There wasn't enough chairs for everyone so you pulled me down to sit on your lap and you put your hand on my hip to keep me steady." Harry lifts Nick's hand to kiss the palm. "And I felt like I was the king of the world. I never wanted you to stop touching me."

"And yet now you keep stopping me from touching you," Nick teases.

Harry sticks his tongue out and then he licks Nick's face. It's revolting. And hot. Mostly hot.

"You're disgusting," Nick lies. "And you better tell the rest of this scintillating story on my awesomeness before I die of old age."

"You know the rest of the story. I'm bored with the story. Kiss me." Never let it be said that Harry is not a man of principle.

"You didn't get to the part where you told me how you'd like for me to get you off," Nick points out, but he kisses Harry anyway. He can guess.

In the end, getting Harry off turns out to take about fifteen seconds. He rolls Harry over on his back again, slips a hand into Harry's pants, curls his fingers around the gorgeous thick length of him, and Harry comes. It's hard to tell who's most surprised.

"Oh fuck," Harry gasps, crimson blush spreading over his cheeks and down his neck, until even the tips of his ears glow.

Nick laughs. He knows he shouldn't but there's come everywhere and Harry just looks so adorably befuddled, chest heaving and eyes glazed.

"Uuugh," Harry whines, hiding his face into the crook of his arm.

"No, don't hide," Nick says, pulling his arm away. He only belatedly realises his hand is smeared with come. He uses the edge of Harry's shirt to wipe off Harry’s arm, but is the shirt’s also smeared with come and he ends up creating even more of a mess.

Harry's mouth starts twitching.

"See, it is funny." Nick pokes at Harry's cheek, leaving another streak of come. "Oh, sorry."

Harry loses it. He's blushing and sweaty and come streaked and gorgeous and laughing so hard he can barely breathe. Nick loves him _so much_.

It's hard to kiss someone who's completely breaking down laughing but Nick gives it his very best shot, feeling victorious when Harry licks at his tongue between guffaws. He keeps trying, pressing kisses all over Harry's flaming face until Harry's finally calmed down enough to kiss him back, holding Nick in place for a proper snog with a firm grip of his hair.

"So that was embarrassing," Harry mumbles when they pull apart. He's still blushing, face warm against Nick's. "It's just... you smell _really_ nice right now."

"Have you ever slept with an Alpha?" Nick asks, giving Harry another kiss. It's so hard to stop kissing him when he's right there.

"Once." Harry noses at Nick's neck. "She didn't smell half as nice."

"You're getting hard again, aren't you?" Nick is amazed and a little awed.

"Yeah." Harry licks at Nick's neck. "Just want you so much. Want to--Can I see you?"

He sounds almost shy about it and Nick's reminded he's Harry's first guy. No pressure.

"Of course, love." It's a moment's work to slip out of his t-shirt and drop it on the bed but before he can get to work on his pants Harry interrupts him with a shocked gasp.

"Oh my god, Nick...You--" He reaches out to touch one of Nick's bruises with trembling fingers. "You should've--Why didn't you tell me?"

In all the excitement Nick sort of forgot he looks a bit like a human punching bag beneath his clothes. "I'm okay," he says. "It's okay, love."

Mulish chin. Gosh, how Nick loves that expression. "You're _covered_ in bruises."

"I'm not. Look, this spot right here is completely fine." Actually most of him is fine; the only bruise that really hurts is the one on his bum.

Harry touches that spot, which happens to be all of Nick's stomach, spreading his fingers over Nick's belly button. "I could have hurt you," he says.

Nick's dick doesn't care much about Harry's emotional turmoil, struggling to break free from its cottony restraints as if it's reaching for Harry's hand. It's a bit distracting. "As long as you don't grab my hip it's fine. You could however--"

Harry lifts his hand, looking alarmed. "What's on your hip?"

"It's just a bruise. Could you..."

"Show me."

Nick sighs and rolls over on his side, reaching down to adjust himself. It makes the head of his cock poke out, slick and eager, from under the waistband of his pants. It looks obscene, but he’s about three-hundred times more comfortable.

Harry makes a distressed noise, tracing the visible edges of the bruise with a fingertip. "Is this where the car hit you?"

"Yeah." Nick rubs his thumb over the wet tip of his dick and tries to not moan out loud. It feels like he's been hard for days. He's pretty sure Harry could pinch the bruise right now and he would find it exciting. He's got congealing come on the back of his hand and he finds that pretty exciting too. 

"Are you touching yourself?" Harry sounds scandalised.

"Maybe a bit." Nick cranes his head to find Harry leaning forward, staring at where Nick's hand covers his dick. At some point he removed his shirt leaving him wonderfully, gloriously near naked, dick huge and obvious in his dirty pants. Nick wants to lick him.

Harry looks conflicted, so Nick lifts his hand to give him the full obscene picture.

"Fuckin' 'ell," Harry says, it's possible he's never sounded more northern in his life, or more turned on.

"Like what you see?" Nick is generally a bit insecure about his body but his dick is _fine_. It's the one part of him that without a doubt lives up to the Alpha standard.

"Like all of it. The full package. Take your pants off."

"I'm glad my hairy, middle-aged body does it for you, Harold," Nick says as he rolls over on his back again and lifts his hips to slide his pants down over his arse. "I too find tummy rolls sexy."

"You have no idea," Harry says lowly, spreading his hand over Nick's stomach. He's not even looking at Nick's dick, which is sad because it's basically waving hello.

"It's my scent that's got you all twisted around in the head, darling."

Harry frowns at him, chin jutting, and yes, there's Nick's favourite expression. "You know that's not how it works."

"Yeah, I know." Nick's pretty sure his expression just melted into something awfully fond because Harry looks so incredibly stubborn. "Just come here and kiss me. You can tell me about your favourite saggy bits later."

Harry comes easily, sinking into Nick's arms and pressing their mouth together. Nick knows Harry probably _will_ tell him about his favourite saggy bits later, and Nick will believe him because Harry'll be absolutely sincere.

"You're a marvel, Haz," Nick murmurs when they pull apart, pressing kisses to the corner of Harry's mouth, his chin and the warm flush of his cheek.

"You're the marvel," Harry mumbles, pulling him in for another kiss.

Nick's not used to kissing this much during sex. He's not used to kissing this much, period. If he's ever kissed for so long, his lips felt chapped before, he doesn't remember it, and he thinks he would have because it's pretty fucking awesome. Especially once he rolls fully on top of Harry and can rub their dicks together through Harry's pants. It's basically the best thing that ever happened to him--or it is until Harry pushes him away.

"Stop. Oh god, stop."

Nick holds very still, balancing on his elbows and knees with Harry's hands on his shoulders holding him at bay.

"What's wrong?" he asks. Harry's flushed down to his chest and he looks almost panicked. "Do you need me to move?"

"Don't you dare." Harry digs his fingers into Nick's shoulders, struggling to breathe evenly.

"Is this--are you having an asthma attack?" Nick has his inhaler in his bag. Harry should have his own somewhere but he doesn't know where it is. "Babe--"

"God, don't call me that," Harry interrupts, looking even more panicked.

"Okay." Nick barely dares to breathe and he's acutely aware of how his dick is sort of resting on Harry's stomach, still rock hard and dripping precome. "Just let me know if you need me to do something."

Harry looks up at him, wide-eyed and open mouthed, still breathing erratically. Nick can feel his stomach heaving against his dick and it's a test of his character to not react to how that is just enough friction right now. He shifts minutely, just enough that he can rub his thumbs gently against Harry's temples.

"Tell me what's wrong, love," he says softly. "I promise I won't be mad."

Harry looks so out of it, that's the thing, cheeks a hectic red and eyes hazy. Maybe he's not feeling well.

Harry turns his face away, doing his best to hide it into the crook of Nick's arm. "I'm about to come again," he mumbles, sounding utterly despondent about it.

"Oh." Nick very valiantly doesn't laugh but he does probably leak some more precome on Harry's stomach because wow, _hot_.

"It's so _embarrassing_."

Nick holds his position braced over Harry but bends down to kiss his cheek. "Will it make you feel better if I come first?"

Harry turns his head so quickly he bumps their noses together. "Yes, please." He surges up and kisses Nick hard, sinking a hand into his hair to hold him in place.

Nick's been hard for so long that finally getting a hand around his cock is a fucking revelation. He groans into Harry's mouth and finds himself immediately pushed back.

"Let me see," Harry demands, pushing harder on Nick's shoulder, until Nick gives in and sinks back on his haunches, kneeling between Harry's spread legs. He doesn't stop jacking himself slowly, rubbing his thumb over his leaking slit on every upstroke. He wonders if knowing Harry is an Omega is enough to trigger his Alpha glands because he never usually gets this wet with someone scentless.

Harry looks a right picture, sweaty and flushed with his soiled pants slipped halfway down his turgid dick and stomach wet with mingled precome. "Fuck." Harry's voice is as rough as Nick's ever heard it. "Can I--can I help?"

Nick nods because he doesn't quite trust his voice enough to answer.

"I'm just going to--" In a move worthy of a yoga master, Harry manages to get himself turned around so that he's kneeling before Nick with his pants pushed down to rest around the tops of his thighs. 

Nick stares so intently at Harry's gorgeous dick that he forgets to stroke himself, hand stilling with his thumb on the slit.

It's just. Harry's cock is so big, and hard, and flushed such a pretty pink, and just looking at it makes Nick's mouth water, he wants to suck it so bad. He wants to lick at the beads of precome gathered where the foreskin has pulled back enough to reveal the slit and then just work him over until his jaw aches with it. It's been way too long since he got his mouth on a cock and this is _Harry_.

Harry ducks into his line of vision to give him a kiss. "What are you thinking about, huh?" He sounds fondly amused.

"Sucking you," he admits.

"Shhhh," Harry murmurs, kissing him again. "Later."

"Yeah." Nick presses his face into Harry's neck, giving himself a long luxurious stroke. "Later."

Harry smells so good. Not like an Omega, not yet, but his intricate Harry smell is almost as good.

" Let me--" Harry's hand joins his on his dick and Nick has to pull back to look again. It's a lot.

"Is this where the knot forms?" Harry drops his hand to touch the loose skin around the base of Nick's cock.

"Yeah," he breathes and it hits him all over again that this is probably Harry's first time touching someone else dick. In Nick's opinion he's a natural.

Harry drops his hand further down, cupping Nick's sac. "And they'll get bigger too, right? When I'm in heat." He still flushes saying it.

"Yeah." It's getting hard to think with the way Harry's touching him.

"God, your smell." Harry presses in closer licking at Nick's neck, close enough for his dick to bump against Nick's knuckles making both of them groan.

"Come on, let me..." Nick shifts and gets his hand around both of them.

"Oh god." Harry's entire body jerks, dick sliding against Nick's. " _Nick_." He moves his hands to curls around Nick's shoulders, panting into his neck. "Nick, I'm..."

"I know. I know." Nick's close too, so fucking close.

"You promised," Harry gasps. "Nick, you--" He breaks off on a whine and that's all it takes, suddenly Nick's coming so hard it feels as if he's going to shake apart, making a truly embarrassing amount of noise against Harry's shoulder while his hand keeps working them over frantically. It's not even close to the best handjob he's ever given , but it doesn't matter, because Harry's shaking and coming all over Nick's hand and both their dicks, keening helplessly against Nick's neck.

Nick slows the movement of his hand until he's just holding their dicks together, thumb rubbing lightly over their slits while he pants gracelessly against Harry's shoulder. His thighs won't stop trembling with the force of his orgasm. He doesn't think he's come so hard in his life and from a pretty shitty hand job at that.

Harry drops a hand in between them, dragging his fingertips over Nick's knuckles and their mingled mess. "I think we might need a shower," he mumbles, lips tickling Nick's skin.

"Yeah." Nick finally lets go of their cocks to slip his arms around Harry's back for a proper cuddle. "And we might need to burn your pants." He's exhausted all of a sudden, the weight of an incredibly long day settling on his shoulders. "Come on, babe--hey, can I call you that now?"

Harry pulls back enough to look at him, sinking both of his hands into Nick's hair and probably getting come everywhere. He looks wrecked, mouth swollen, cheeks flushed and eyes glittering. "You can call me _anything_ ," he says sincerely, his grin punching dimples into his cheeks.

Exhausted or not, Nick just has to kiss him for a bit.

"Shower now?" Harry asks when they pull apart and he sounds like he's fading fast too. 

"Yeah." Nick gracelessly clambers backwards off the bed. "Come on, pumpkin."

Harry's outraged expression is _everything_.

\--

The bathroom lights are incredibly bright after the golden hue of the bedroom and Nick squints at the mirror, making a face at the atrocious state of his hair.

"I'm never letting you style my hair with come again," he says, poking despondently at it while Harry fiddles with the shower settings.

"I think it looks amazing," Harry says, coming up behind him and resting his chin against Nick's shoulder. "Very fashion forward." Harry's hair is also a mess, tangled and matted. He still looks great.

Harry puts his hands on Nick's stomach, spreading his fingers wide. "Now that I've had time to consider it, I like all your saggy bits equally," he says, dimpling at Nick in the mirror. "Couldn't possibly pick a favourite."

They make quite the contrast, Harry's tanned and hard all over, nearly hairless still apart from the thick curly bush around the base of his cock, Nick is bruised, winter pale and freckled, soft where Harry is hard, plenty of dark coarse hair on his chest, stomach and legs.

"Do you wish I had chest hair?" Harry asks, sliding one of his hands up to Nick's chest to rub his fingers through the hair there. "It's really hot."

Nick doesn't mind a bit of chest hair, but it's not something he finds particularly hot, maybe because he has so much of it himself. "While I do love your three hairs dearly--"

"Heyyyy."

"It's not something I care much about, to be honest."

"What do you care about then?" Harry's voice is muffled because he's turned his head to nose at Nick's neck.

"Well, I'm incredibly shallow, so I like a nice face, a good head of hair, and a pretty cock."

"A pretty cock." Harry sounds amused like it's nothing he's considered before. "You're taking the piss."

"Am not. Vital part of any relationship a nice cock. Unless you're a lesbian, I guess."

Harry laughs. "You're so full of shit," he mumbles. "How would you even know if someone had a pretty cock before you slept with them?"

"Oh, I thought we were talking about something with more longevity than a one night stand, because there have been times in my life when the only qualification for that was _breathing_." 

Harry hums in something like agreement against Nick's neck and Nick wonders if he's about to fall asleep standing up.

"Come on, love," he says, turning easily in the loose circle of Harry's arms. "Let's have that shower."

"Mmm kay," Harry tilts his chin back for a kiss and he's definitely at least halfway to sleep already, eyes drowsy and mouth slack. He makes a clear effort to look more awake. "Want to wash you."

"You can," Nick assures him. "But we have to get in the shower first."

"Oh." Harry turns his head to look at the shower that’s already been running for at least ten minutes as if he's surprised to find they're not in it. "Right."

As far as showers go, it's not very sexy. Harry does wash Nick to his waist, and then he gives up and faceplants into Nick's shoulder, letting Nick do the rest of the work. Nick doesn't mind, even if he does keep up a steady commentary about jetlag, injuries and lazy popstars that doesn't stop until he tips Harry into bed, freshly washed and rosy pink. He quite enjoys taking care of Harry, that's the thing.

"'s my dick pretty enough?" Harry mumbles when Nick joins him on the bed after turning the lights off in the bathroom.

"It's gorgeous, darling, like the rest of you."

"Mmmm, good...you too." Harry curls into Nick's side, putting his head on Nick's shoulder. "Love you."

He's asleep before Nick can answer.

\--

Nick wakes up way too early to a mouthful of Harry's hair. At some point during the night they’d shifted so that Nick's curled up to Harry's back like a proper big spoon, which is nothing short of a sweaty marvel. Usually if Nick shares a bed with someone he wakes up as far away as the bed will let him go because his sleeping self is a bit of a dick.

He spits out Harry's hair and glances at the bedside alarm clock, 5:30am. Jetlag is a fucking curse -- they can't have been sleeping for more than a few hours. But he's wide awake now. More awake, he reckons, than he's ever been before.

Since Harry's still dead to the world, he slips out of bed and into to the bathroom. When he’s done, he grabs a pair of clean pants, a t-shirt, and his phone from where it's been charging on the nightstand, dressing quickly before he settles down in the comfy armchair kindly placed in a corner by the windows to check in with the rest of the world.

He has about two hundred messages waiting for him, but he only replies to a few before he does a quick browse of the internet to try and figure out if the fans, or worse media, caught on to his travels. As far as he can tell, the answer is thankfully no. There's one person who thinks they saw him at Heathrow, but there are no pictures, and being spotted at Heathrow isn't too incriminating.

The ever present worry that he's fucking up Harry's life eases somewhat and he settles in to browse instagram instead, amusing himself with the minutiae of other people's lives.

It's maybe an hour, and many instagram likes later, before Harry stirs and rolls over on his back with a sleepy noise. Nick's been resisting the temptation to stare creepily, but now he can't tear his eyes away. Harry is very, very noticeably hard, the covers tenting enticingly around his erection.

Nick's just contemplating if it would be morally reprehensible to wake Harry up for sex before 7 a.m. when Harry suddenly sits bolt upright with a gasped, "Nick?"

"I'm here," Nick says, putting his phone to the side.

"Oh, good." Harry collapses back down against the bed and squints at him. "Why are you dressed? What time is it?"

"6:45."

Harry makes a face. "What an awful time to be awake. Come back to bed and get your kit off."

Nick laughs at him, but he does leave his t-shirt behind in the chair.

"Pants too."

"You're very demanding for someone who just woke up," Nick says, crawling onto the bed on his hands and knees.

Harry watches him approach with darkening eyes. "Actually keep the pants," he mumbles, pushing himself up to meet Nick halfway for a kiss. "They're sexy."

Nick doesn't think there's anything particularly sexy about light-grey Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

"If you think this is sexy you should see me in my lingerie," he says when they break apart. "Look well good in lace knickers, me."

"Oh, god." Harry blinks. "Is that--do you--would you wear them for me?"

Harry's blushing, which is adorable on many levels. "Of course." Nick kisses him again. "Didn't bring any though."

Harry looks a bit like he's considering where he could get his hands on a pair of lace knickers this early, so Nick takes it upon himself to kiss him again, pushing him back down onto the bed. 

"You'd really wear knickers for me?" Harry asks when they pull apart and he sounds wrecked already, breathless and hoarse. Either he's really into the thought of Nick in knickers or he still hasn't gotten used to Nick's scent when he's turned on.

"I'd wear anything for you," Nick promises, kissing Harry's flaming cheek. "Knickers, stockings, a nice little corset."

"Fuck," Harry breathes.

Nick drops a hand to cover Harry's rock hard dick over the covers, rubbing slowly. "Yeah, you'd like that," he says warmly, dropping kisses all over Harry's face. "Bet you'd love to come all over a lace-up corset. Come all over me."

Harry whimpers, hips pushing up against Nick's hand. "Want you to smell like me," Harry gasps. "Want you to--please."

"I will." Nick kisses Harry's gasping mouth. "When you come into your scent I'll smell like you all the time." God, how Nick wants that. He wants Harry's scent all over him. "Everyone will know. They won't be able to help but to smell it."

Harry moans, turning his face into Nick's and licking at his mouth. "I'm gonna--Nick, you'll make me--"

Nick manages to get the covers out of the way and his hand properly around Harry's dick just in time to watch him come all over his own heaving stomach in long shivering pulses.

"Holy fuck," Harry groans, hips twitching. " _Nick_."

Nick keeps his hand on Harry's cock, rubbing gently at the slit and giving him the odd stroke until Harry reaches down to still his hand with a half-formed whine.

"Too much?" Nick asks, kissing the corner of Harry's still gasping mouth.

"Bit," Harry agrees, turning his face into the kiss. "Like it. Just slow."

Nick can do slow, playing gently with Harry's still plumped up cock while he comes down.

"Didn't mean to come that fast," Harry mumbles when he's stopped breathing quite as hard.

"I think it's my scent," Nick says, finally lifting his hand off Harry's dick and curling it around his hip instead. "You've not got used to it yet."

"Don't know if I ever will." Harry rolls over on his side and kisses Nick below the ear. "When you're hard I can smell it my stomach."

Nick chuckles. "How does that work?"

Harry shrugs, pushing him back against the bed and towering over him. "I don't know. I just can."

Nick reaches up to smooth his hair back from his face. "Is it like how you can smell how I'm feeling?"

Harry shrugs again. "Bit like that, but more."

"More what?"

"Just more."

Nick smiles, tugging on Harry's hair until he leans down for a kiss. "How on earth did you share a bed with my morning erections for weeks without me noticing anything?"

"I wanked a lot." Harry makes a face. "And you're pretty dense about certain things. Everyone knew but you."

"About the wanking?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "About me being gone for you."

"Tell me more about the wanking, then, since it seems to be an exclusive. Ever tried it when I was in bed with you?"

" _No_."

"Shame. Pretty sexy that. You being so gone for me you couldn't help yourself. Trying to be quiet but not quite managing--" Nick drops a hand to adjust himself and Harry turns his head to stare.

"You're awful." Harry sounds pretty happy about it. "Can I touch your cock?"

Nick laughs. "Yeah, babe. Anytime."

Harry reaches out and Nick takes his hand away, letting Harry cover his erection over his pants. "It's so warm." Harry flushes, giving Nick a quick glance. "I mean I knew that... I just didn't think it... Yeah." He clamps his mouth shut but he doesn't take his hand away, gently exploring the length of Nick's dick with his fingertips. The fabric is already turning dark around tip with Nick's precome and Harry rubs his thumb over the wet spot, making Nick's hips twitch up into his hand.

"Oh," he says, clearly startled. "You like that?"

"Feels nice," Nick admits. It's a bit of an understatement. Harry's not really doing anything, but it's already making Nick's stomach tighten helplessly.

"Can you--" Harry touches the waistband of Nick's pants, rubbing his thumb over Nick's treasure trail. "Want to see you."

Nick has probably never removed his pants quicker or with less grace. "Prime dick real estate," he says, making an unnecessary gesture, it's not like Harry's hand isn't right there. "Leaning tower, suitable for a family of three."

Harry giggles. "It's not _that_ big. I think mine's bigger."

"But I've got an extra bedroom on the ground floor. It's all about girth, Harold." Nick should pinch him for “mine's bigger” because they're talking a half an inch at most, but Harry chooses that moment to curl his hand around the base of Nick's cock so he'll let it slide. For now.

He pets Harry's hair instead, and props himself up against the pillow to watch Harry watch himself touching Nick. Harry examines the loose skin around the thick base of Nick's cock curiously, pulling it up Nick's shaft and then down again to fold against the very base. It's a bit distracting.

"How big does it get when you, uhm, you know?"

Nick really can't get enough of the way Harry blushes, the redness spreading down his neck and to his chest, leaving bright roses on his cheeks.

"Pretty big. I don't think you'd be able to close your hand around it."

Harry loosens his grip until his fingers no longer meet and then some. "That's pretty big." He sounds nervous. "How does it fit?"

"Carefully." Harry gives him a _look_. "Oh come here." Nick tugs him down for a kiss. "It swells up inside you, love, where there's plenty of room, and you'll be gagging for it, so that helps."

Harry makes a face.

"No, it's beautiful. It's lovely." Nick tries to smooth the frown from his face. "You'll be amazing."

"Everyone says it's awful the first time," Harry mumbles. "My mate Ronan says he was sick for a week."

"But he was alone, wasn't he? It's not awful if you have someone to ease you through it. I'll take such good care of you, love." Harry's lucky. Most Omegas go through their first heat when they're sixteen or seventeen, before they're old enough to have met someone suitable.

"Have you done it a lot with other Omegas?"

"Enough times to know what I'm doing," Nick says vaguely, kissing the corner of Harry's mouth and his still flaming cheek.

This is probably not the right time to talk about that period in Nick's early twenties when he dicked his way around London town. He had a lot of fun, obviously, but in retrospect it was less about helping Omega buddies through their heat than it was about proving to himself he was Alpha enough. He doesn't regret it necessarily, but it kind of makes him want to give his younger self a hug.

"What if they were better than me?" Harry sounds so small Nick wants to wrap him up in his arms and _never let him go_. Metaphorically that's definitely his life plan, but right now he'd rather have sex.

"No one could be better than you." Nick gives him a kiss. "You're giving me the world's worst hand job right now and I still find it pretty fucking exciting." He does too. God, he's so easy for this boy.

"Oh." Harry startles and looks down to where his hand is still loosely wrapped around Nick's erection that hasn't wilted at all despite the boner-killing asides. So. Easy. "Sorry." He jacks his hand up and down the shaft a couple of times. "Better."

"It'll do." It kind of makes Nick want to pant with his tongue hanging out. It's Harry's hand on his dick. That's a lot right there.

Harry slides his hand up to play with Nick's foreskin, hiding and revealing the slick tip of Nick's dick, as if he's never seen foreskin before despite having one himself.

"That's nice." Nick shifts his hips. "You can just--do that."

"Yeah?" Harry shifts closer and slicks his thumb over the slit. "That do it for you?"

"Your hand on my dick is doing it for me," Nick admits breathlessly. It's ridiculous to what extent. "Do me like you do yourself when you're desperate to get off."

"Like early in the morning," Harry says, settling in with his head on Nick's shoulder and his fist tight around Nick's dick. He's getting hard again, cock hot against Nick's hip. "When you've gone off to work?" 

"Yeah, like that."

Harry shifts his grip again and jacks Nick fast and tight, thumbing over the slit on every upstroke, spreading the plentiful moisture.

"I'd be so--it was torture. Listening to you in the morning, in the shower, thinking maybe you--"

"Yeah," Nick gasps, thrusting up into Harry's hand. "Usually."

"Fuck," Harry shifts closer, rubbing up against Nick's hip. "Used to think about joining you. About being allowed." Harry's breath is hot against Nick's collarbone, shivering through his chest hair, and jesus, this is really doing it for Nick. 

"You could have." Nick would have freaked the fuck out, but he's never been in the habit of denying Harry anything.

Nick's leaking precome continuously now, dripping over Harry's knuckles.

"You getting close? I usually..." Harry shifts to short tight stroke over the head, barely letting it peek out of his fist before he goes up again. "This is all I have to do in the morning. I come so quick when I think of you."

Nick makes a truly embarrassing noise and tries to not writhe unsexily. Harry's a natural at dick-handling.

"I always go to the bathroom though. I never made a mess on your sheets. I like your sheets."

 _Dear god, he's going to ask where I bought them_ , Nick thinks, but instead Harry leans in close and breathes: "I love how they smell of you," against Nick's ear, which is, yeah. Then Harry shifts to lick one of Nick's nipples and Nick, a bit surprised, comes all over the place with an embarrassing amount of moaning and unsexy writhing.

"I made you come." Harry sounds delighted. He's still wanking Nick, loose long strokes that makes Nick shiver so good, as if he'll never stop coming. "Was it good?"

Nick peels his eyes open to look at him. Harry's bright eyed and gorgeous and far from the sweaty mess he's made of Nick. He really looks overjoyed.

"It was great," Nick says, trying to not look too amused. "You give quality orgasms, Harold. Well done."

"Don't take the piss." Harry has such a pretty pout.

"Don't ask stupid questions then." Nick reaches down to still Harry's hand, holding it in place. "Come here and kiss me instead."

Harry does.

Returning the favour takes a matter of minutes since Nick's scent is all over the place and Harry’s so subtly been rubbing off against his hip. Nick doesn't stop kissing Harry until he comes over Nick's fingers and both their bellies and he dives back in as soon as Harry's caught some semblance of breath. Harry's mouth is addictive.

It's a long time later when they finally pull apart and curl up for a nap. Harry's ordered breakfast for 10am so there's still plenty of time to shower and get dressed after a bit of a kip. Nick's life, he thinks, is really kind of awesome right now.

\--

Harry spends most of breakfast muttering apologies while fielding calls and writing messages, carving out as much free time for himself as possible.

"Liam won't leave me alone," Harry mutters, typing furiously with his tongue between his teeth. "Love you, Li. Do _not_ want to see you."

Nick feels very sorry for this One Direction drama he's apparently causing but mostly he just want to pull Harry into his lap and kiss him for a bit. He eats a strawberry instead, chewing it slowly. He already talked to his mum and texted Aimee, Alexa, Pixie, Daisy and Collette.

Harry's phone rings and he answers it with, "I'm not avoiding you." Liam then. "I'm _not_." There's a brief silence where Harry carefully shreds a leftover piece of croissant. "I just don't want to go to the zoo. You know what it's like, we'll be followed by fans within twenty minutes and probably cause a riot."

Nick shifts and winces when he accidentally aggravates the massive bruise on his hip.

Harry looks up suddenly, covering the mouthpiece. "Did you take a painkiller yet?"

"I don't know if I need one," he whispers. "I'm just a bit sore."

"So just take an Advil then--What no, Li, I'm still here." He gives Nick a pointed look, jerking his chin towards the bathroom.

"You're not the king of me," Nick mutters. Then he goes to the bathroom and takes an Advil anyway because maybe he is a bit sore and Harry likely is the king of him.

"No, don't come here," Harry says when Nick steps out of the bathroom and for a second he actually thinks Harry's talking to him. "Liam, I'm not--Don't--" Harry snaps his mouth shut and lowers the phone. "So that went well." He looks a bit lost, turning the phone over between his fingers. 

"Did he get mad?" Nick walks closer, sinking to his knees before Harry's chair and stilling his hands around the phone.

"No, or, well--he's coming here."

Nick's stomach sinks. "Oh."

"It's just Liam," Harry says quickly, freeing his hands to cup Nick's face. "It's okay with Liam. He'd be able to smell you on me anyway."

And so will all other scented people that get close enough. Nick's a fucking idiot. There probably aren't a lot of scented fans in NYC who know what Nick smells like, but it only takes one for the rumours to spread.

"This was such a terrible idea." He swallows. "Maybe I should go stay with Drew."

"No." Harry's fingers tighten on Nick's face and Nick's favourite expression makes an appearance. Then his grip softens and Harry touches the edge of the unsightly plaster on Nick's forehead. "Does your head hurt?"

Nick shakes his head. His stomach hurts now and his chest but his head is just fine.

"Good." Harry folds forward giving Nick a soft kiss. "You're not a dirty secret," he says when he pulls back, pushing Nick's drooping quiff back from his forehead. "You're my friend and my friends come on tour all the time."

They both know this is different even if it shouldn't be. It's almost funny how Nick spent most of his life not being Alpha enough and now he's suddenly too much of one. 

"Maybe you should talk to Lena," Nick says, turning his head to kiss the inside of Harry's wrist. "She'll probably kill us in our sleep if the internet finds out I'm here before she does."

Lena handles PR for One Direction while they're on tour. Nick has met her a couple of times, and even if he’s sure she wishes Nick was a few inches shorter, a few years younger and female, she's never been anything but perfectly lovely to him.

"Well, she needs _me_." Harry grins and runs his hands into Nick's hair, tugging lightly. "I think that's the single most adult thing you've ever said to me. Are you sure you didn't hit your head?"

"Very funny," Nick says drily but Harry does have a point. Maybe he _did_ hit his head.

There's a knock on the door and they both stiffen. "That'd be Liam," Harry says, bending down to give Nick another kiss before letting go of his hair.

"Hopefully," Nick agrees, climbing to his feet with some effort. His knees are not as young as they used to be. "I'll hide in the corner just in case."

Harry makes a face but he doesn't protest, waiting until Nick has moved out of view before he goes to open the door. Harry doesn't even have time to say hello before Liam says, "Wait, is Grimmy here?" followed by a chorus of “whaaaat?”s. Great.

It's a matter of seconds before four-fifths of One Direction tumble into the room and come to an abrupt halt when they spot Nick.

"He _is_ here," Zayn says, sounding surprised. Louis scowls, Liam frowns and Niall heads straight for their discarded breakfast. Harry comes in behind them with his arms crossed over his chest. "Sorry," he mouths, half shrugging as if to say “what can you do?”

"Hiya," Nick says, waving dumbly.

"How's the head?" Niall asks, spraying croissant crumbs down the front of his shirt.

"It's okay. Bit tender but no worse than a regular Sunday morning."

"You said it didn't hurt," Harry says accusingly. "Sit down."

He points at the still unmade bed that probably reeks of sex, if Liam's pained face is anything to judge from.

"I'm good with--"

" _Sit._ "

Harry is awfully demanding, Nick decides, as he sinks down on the edge of the bed. Harry fusses with his hair and touches the edges of the plaster as the rest of One Direction stares at them.

"Do you think the stitches are infected?" He pokes gently at the centre of the plaster and Nick winces away, acutely aware of their audience. 

"My stitches are fine, love," he says, catching Harry's hands and pulling them from his face. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Harry frees a hand to touch the side of Nick's face again and Nick touches his lips to the inside of his wrist, where his scent would be strong if he had one.

"I'm sure."

"You all owe me so much money," Louis says, when Nick looks up he's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow cocked. "Told you."

"Hey, I've been on your team all along," Liam says, sounding wounded. "You wouldn't even have a team if it wasn't for me."

"Would too. I told you they'd be shagging sooner or later in 2011. Give me some credit, Liam."

"Is that what's happening here?" Zayn looks a bit squeamish, eyes flicking to the bed and away. Nick wonders if there are any obvious come stains on the sheets; they should've really made the bed.

"Clearly," Niall says, he sounds like his mouth is full. "Congrats, guys. You ain't getting a dime out of me, Tommo. No one took your sucker bet."

Within seconds, they're squabbling about who owes who what and since when. Harry sits down gingerly on the bed next to Nick. Nick takes his hand. 

"You okay?" Nick asks lowly, bumping their sides together.

Harry glances at where the rest of the band has gathered around Louis phone to argue some point or another -- does he keep a list? -- and squeezes Nick's fingers. "I'm good," he says, putting his head down on Nick's shoulder. "Pretty great actually."

There's the sound of a camera shutter and when both Nick and Harry startle the rest of them hoot with laughter. Louis lowers his phone looking awfully smug.

"Try to not accidentally post that to any social media sites before I've talked to Lena," Harry says wryly.

"I'm saving it for the wedding scrapbook," Louis says, pocketing his phone again. "We done here, lads? It's obviously not misery he's drowning in this time."

"I'd say," Zayn mutters. They should have _really_ made the bed.

"I wasn't drowning in misery last time either," Harry protest.

"You were eating your body weight in ice cream and crying over Love Actually."

"I was _not_ crying over Love Actually."

"No, I imagine you were crying over quiffy there, but I didn't know that then, did I?"

"I did." Liam sounds awfully smug. "Or, well, guessed. He was wearing _the shirt_."

Niall rolls his eyes. "Isn't he always though?"

Harry jumps up. "Okay, yes, I think we're done here for sure. Nice to see you, lads. Ecstatic to know you care. See you all tonight."

The rest of One Direction are not nearly as easily cowed as Nick. He should probably ask for a few pointers.

"You know the drill, Grimshaw," Louis says, ducking under Harry's arm to point a finger at Nick.

"Death and dismemberment?" Nick guesses.

"Slow death and dismemberment," Louis confirms. "Painful. Some would even say gruesome."

"Louis." Harry drags the name out pulling on Louis's arm.

"But yeah." Louis makes a complicated face. "Happy you're okay and all that."

He lets Harry drag him towards the others, still looking at Nick.

"Thanks," Nick says. He means it, too; it makes him feel some kind of way that he seems to have earned Louis's tentative approval.

Then there are group hugs and cooing and a lot of the others poking gentle fun at Harry for his life choices before Harry finally manages to usher his unruly band out the door and close it behind them. He's trying to look like they've wronged him greatly, but Nick can tell he's absolutely chuffed.

"So," Nick says, pushing himself up from the bed and approaching Harry. "What's this I hear about ice cream and crying?"

"Welcome to the lifestyles of the rich and famous." Harry smiles, slipping his arms around Nick's waist and pressing a kiss to his chin.

Despite everything that could possibly go wrong, Nick is really glad that he came. He links his hands at the small of Harry's back and gives him a kiss. "Do you want to call Lena now or--"

"Later." Harry kisses Nick again, fisting his hands into Nick's shirt. "Let's call her later."

Nick is down with that plan.

\--

It's a revelation to finally get Harry fully naked and spread out on the bed. If Nick wasn't scared of his phone being stolen he'd take a picture because he wants to remember this moment forever. 

"Don't just stand there," Harry says impatiently. "Get your kit off." He clearly doesn't understand the gravity of the moment.

"Excuse me for admiring the view." Nick shrugs out of his t-shirt and drops it on the floor, starting in on his jeans. "I'm quite fond of it."

"Eh, mine's better." Harry's leer needs some work but Nick appreciates the sentiment.

Nick turns around to wiggle his bum at Harry while he shimmies his jeans down his legs and when he turns back Harry has a hand wrapped around the base of his cock.

"Pants too," Harry demands, voice turning husky already.

"It's always orders with you, King Harold," Nick say, pushing his pants down and stepping out of them. "Do this. Do that. Obey my command."

"I'll make it worth your while," Harry says, holding his hands out. "Come here and kiss me."

"Maybe I wasn't done with the view." Nick crawls onto the bed and into Harry's arms, giving him a kiss.

"Maybe I don't care."

Harry's possibly never been more gorgeous than he is with his hair spread across white pillows and dimples punched into his cheeks.

"Might have to do some more hands on exploration then." Nick kisses Harry's mouth and his chin, trailing his lips down Harry's throat to kiss his collarbones. "Hi birdie," he murmurs, kissing the head of one of the swallows tattooed on Harry's chest. Up close he can see the simple banner proclaiming LOVE that has been hidden by the bulk of the swallow's body and he kisses that too. He trails his mouth downwards until he finds one of Harry's nipples and licks across it.

"Fuck," Harry breathes. "That's..." He buries his hands into Nick's hair, chest heaving. "Jesus."

Nick teases Harry's nipple into a tight hard peak with lips and teeth and tongue, until Harry pulls him away with a desperate whine.

"You can't tease me," he pants. "If you want to--" The hectic flush already on his cheeks starts spreading down his neck to pool at the base of his throat. "You know." He lifts his hips meaningfully rubbing his dick against Nick's stomach.

"Suck you?" Nick asks, delighting in the way it makes Harry shiver.

"Yeah." It's more breath than word. "I mean, if you want."

"I do want." Nick presses a kiss to Harry's sternum. "I really do want."

"I'll come really fast," Harry warns when Nick licks a circle around his belly button.

"That's okay," Nick mumbles. God, Harry's body is fantastic. Nick could spend hours just touching it. He rubs his thumbs along the cuts of Harry's hips and shifts until he's kneeling between Harry's spread legs.

Harry's staring at him, propped up against the pillows for a better view. His cock is arched over his stomach, flushed with heat and already slick at the tip. This close he smells divine, like boy and heat and desire, making Nick's mouth water.

He leans in, bracing one hand over Harry's stomach and wrapping the other around his cock, leaning in to lick across the exposed tip.

Harry whines, hips shuddering up against Nick's hold. "This is not--Nick, I can't--" When Nick looks up he's chewing at his lower lip, flushed and miserable.

"It's okay, love." Nick kisses the inside of his thigh. "I got you."

Harry still looks a bit miserable but when Nick hesitates, he nods, nudging his cock against Nick's mouth. Nick goes easy on him, option for no frills steady suction with very little hand action. It still makes Harry breathe hard within seconds, precome salty on Nick's tongue.

Nick loves sucking cock, that's the thing, and he hasn't done nearly enough of it in recent years. It's literally all he can do to not just choke on Harry's cock over and over because he loves the way it fills up his mouth, big and hot and so, so hard.

Harry's whimpering continuously now, and when Nick looks up through his drooping quaff, Harry's staring at him with huge dark eyes, his hands fisted into the sheets. Nick pulls off, slicking his hand up and down the shaft a few times, spreading the moisture from saliva and precome.

"Taste so good, love," Nick says, darting in to lick at the head as it peeks out of his hand. "God, I love sucking you."

Harry moans, hips lifting from the bed. "Please," he breathes. He's on edge, Nick can tell, dick leaking a steady stream of precome over Nick's fist.

Nick goes back down and this time he doesn't pull any punches, sucking hard on the way down until it feels like Harry's dick is lodged halfway down his throat over and over again, raising his fist to meet his mouth on every downturn.

Harry makes a lot of noise, most of which he's probably not even aware of making, hips writhing against the bed.

"Nick, I'm--" That's all Harry gets out before he arches up and comes with a drawn out moan. Nick swallows as much as he can, letting the rest dribble down Harry's cock while he sucks him through it, gentling his mouth only when Harry starts to shake.

"Fuck," Harry says, voice as wrecked at Nick has ever heard it. He lets go of the sheets to pull lightly on Nick's hair until he finally lets Harry's dick slip from his mouth and looks up.

Harry looks a wreck, flushed and sweaty with bitten lips. Nick just has to kiss him, crawling up his body to press their mouths together. Harry keeps his vice grip on Nick's hair, holding him in place until Nick can no longer taste Harry's come, just the mingled taste of their spit.

Harry lets him go then, allowing Nick to put a some space between their lips. "Your mouth." Harry lifts a hand to touch Nick's swollen lips. "You look--" He traces the outline of Nick's cupid's bow. "I did that."

"You and your massive dick," Nick says fondly, nipping at his fingers.

Harry still looks dazed but he smiles, dimples cutting into his lovely pink cheeks. "The junk is massive," he says, eyes sparkling.

Nick laughs, he shouldn't really, he's setting himself up for a lifetime of lame of jokes, but it's worth it for the way Harry's grin widens.

"Can I do you now?" Harry asks, still thumbing at Nick's lips. "I want to try. Will you teach me?"

Nick's dick jumps and he kisses Harry before he can say something even more devastating. Dear lord, he'll be the death of Nick yet.

"I think that can be arranged," he says when they pull apart and he's regained some semblance of higher brain function. "Dick sucking 101 with Professor Grimshaw."

Harry's eyes turn dreamy. "Wow, imagine if you were my professor. Hot."

Nick can imagine it, and it's a thought he will revisit often with his hand down his pants, but right now he doesn't have to imagine anything. He kisses Harry again, shifting his dick against Harry's thigh.

"Mmm." Harry slips a hand in between them, holding Nick's dick against his skin in a highly distracting way. "Like that."

"So far you've been pretty easy to please," Nick says, pressing his lips to Harry's still flushed cheek. "Is there anything you don't like?"

"Not that I know of." Harry turns his head to catch Nick's mouth. "How about you?"

"I don't like being held down. Otherwise--"

"Sorry." Harry takes his hand off Nick's cock as if it burned him and it honestly takes Nick a confused second to understand why.

"Oh. Oh no. Not like that. " He shifts to curl his hands around Harry's wrists and hold them down against the bed by his head. "Like this." He keeps his grip light in case Harry get uncomfortable, but he just lets his legs fall open to bracket Nick's hips and stares up at him with absolute trust. 

"I don't mind." He licks his lips, testing Nick's hold. "I think I like it." He squirms a little and Nick tightens his grip, earning himself a full body shudder. "Mmm, yeah. We can definitely do that."

Nick gives him a light kiss. "I think it would be okay if it was you," he confesses.

"Wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." Harry curls his hands so that he can touch his fingertips to the back of Nick's hands. "If I ever do, just say stop."

"Same." Nick gives him a kiss. "Always."

"I know." Harry smiles softly. "You already did."

It would definitely be okay with Harry, Nick thinks. Harry is as far from Brad as any one man can be.

"I used to date an Alpha," Nick says. "When I was about your age, maybe a little older. He liked to hold me down."

"And you didn't?"

"It made me feel weak. I don't know, like I was useless? I never told him because it was what I thought I deserved at the time, but it's made me uneasy ever since." Nick shrugs.

Harry surges up to kiss him and then drops back against the pillows, body lax and pliant. "It makes me feel cared for," he says. "Like you got me." He stares up at Nick, eyes so very soft.

Had it been anyone else Nick would have never even mentioned Brad, , but the words comes so easily with Harry. "You make me feel complete," he says helplessly. "I used to feel like I was never enough, but it's always been different with you."

He immediately wants to take it back. Cornier words has rarely been spoken. It's worth it, though, for Harry's blinding smile. It's true, anyway, it's always been true. It was true while Harry was still Harry Styles off of One Direction who Nick exchanged numbers with at a random event and it's only gotten more true since. Nick grew into his scent before he met Harry, but these last couple of years have certainly added to his confidence. Lame as it is, Harry makes him more.

Harry wrenches his hands free, reaching up to pull Nick into a kiss, and then they're just kissing. Hungry deep wonderful kisses that make Nick's already abused mouth ache, but he couldn't care less. They kiss until Harry rolls Nick over on his back to tower over him, red-mouthed and dark-eyed. Nick puts his hands up on the pillows by his head and after the slightest hesitation Harry puts his palms on Nick's wrists, a barely there pressure.

"I love you," Harry whispers, eyes suspiciously shiny. He tightens his hold a fraction, gently pressing Nick's wrist into the pillows.

The tension eases out of Nick's frame and he lifts his head to give Harry a kiss. He doesn't feel weak or useless or any of the things Brad used to make him feel. He feels safe and like he loves Harry so much there's not enough space in his chest. He feels like there's so much love in him it's spilling out through his pores.

"Love you too," he says, falling back against the pillows. "So, I believe you were going to suck my cock?"

Harry snorts out a startled laugh, letting go of Nick's wrists to press a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle his giggles.

"It's not very hard. Well, my dick is, but we're not talking rocket science here." Nick carefully folds back all but two of Harry's fingers and turns his hand to aim them at his mouth. "Stop laughing, Harold. This is serious business."

"I'm trying!"

"The important thing to remember is cover your teeth with your lips. Yeah, like that, though you don't have to go full little old man missing his dentures."

Harry breaks down laughing again and Nick moves his hand to his own mouth. "Here, I'll demonstrate." He guides Harry's fingers in between his lips all the way to the knuckles and then pulls them out again. "Not so tricky, right?" He repeats the motion until Harry's laughter has been replaced by a dark-eyed stare.

"You don't want to get too ambitious your first time. You can test the limits of your gag reflex later. A little bit of suction is always nice." He doesn't have to guide Harry's fingers this time, the pads of Harry's fingers dragging across his tongue when he hollows his cheeks. "That was a little different, yeah?" Harry nods, licking his lips. "Do it again. Slower."

Harry's fingers are slick with spit when he pulls them out this time, ropes of saliva tying his fingertips to Nick's mouth. "The tricky part is going up because that will peel your lips from your teeth, but it's not that hard to get a hang of. Here, have a go."

Nick feeds two fingers of his right hand in between Harry's lips, resting the left one gently against Harry's cheek. The first go is a little dry but then it's just wet delicious heat dragging across Nick's skin, until Harry pulls back to wipe a bit of drool from his chin with an embarrassed apology.

"No, that's alright," Nick says. "You get me really wet so it's better to just let it dribble out. Want to try it again?" Harry nods. "Try a little suction this time, nothing fancy, just a bit of...Yeah, that's it. You're already good at this."

Harry makes a pleased noise, wrapping his hand around Nick's wrist to take his fingers deeper. Nick reckons he could actually come from just this, the blissful look on Harry's face and the steady hot suction around his fingers.

"You like that, yeah? Having summat in your mouth."

Harry pulls off, licking at the pads of Nick's fingers. "Yeah," he says roughly. "I do." He leans in licking into Nick's mouth for a deep filthy kiss that ends with a nibble on Nick's lower lip. "Can I suck you now?"

"Y--yeah, that would be--go ahead."  
Harry kisses him again, slow and lingering, before he starts making his way down Nick's body. He surely takes his time, stopping to pay attention to both of Nick's nipples and his quivering stomach, seemingly not caring about the way Nick's dick leaves a wet trail across his chest.

"God," he murmurs hoarsely. "Your scent is--" He presses his face to the base of Nick's cock. " _Fuck_."

Nick's scent is strongest where his blood beats close to the surface, and nowhere is it stronger than his groin. Harry licks at the base of Nick's cock and lets out a whimper, lifting his head to stare emptily at Nick with huge dark eyes. He's shaking, Nick realises. Of course.

"Is it my taste, love?" Nick asks, sliding a hand into Harry's hair to hold his floppy fringe back from his flushed face.

Harry nods, full on trembling now.

"It takes a while to get used to it. I should have figured it'd be a bit much for you." Nick's never had anyone react to his scent like Harry does. He's met plenty of Omegas who were into his scent, especially while in heat, but Harry's reaction is by far the most visceral. He strokes his thumb across Harry's flaming cheek. "You okay?"

Harry swallows and nods again, shifting his position so that Nick can see how hard he is, cock flushed an angry red and dripping onto the sheets. _Jesus_. Then Harry shifts again and gets his mouth around Nick's cock. It's all Nick can do to not knock him unconscious with his pelvis, body quaking with the effort to hold still.

Harry plants his hands on Nick's hips, too affected by Nick's scent to manage much suction. He keeps his lips tight and jerkily bobs his head, the occasional needy whimper escaping through his nose. Just the look of him is nearly too much. He looks like an angel with his curly hair, smooth skin, rosy cheeks and blissfully fluttering eyelashes, but his mouth is stuffed full of cock, Nick's cock. Holy _fuck_.

Harry pulls off to pant for breath, but he keeps his tongue resting on Nick's slit and he just looks completely _gone_. Nick might come from just looking at him.

"You okay, love?" Nick asks shakily. It's probably bad form to come all over someone who's having a moment.

Harry looks up, pupils blown wide and lips red. He looks like he doesn't even understand what Nick's saying but after a moment he nods jerkily and goes back down. He really tries this time, adding some suction and bobbing his head to more of a rhythm, and it's more than enough to get Nick there in record time. Harry's mouth is wet and warm and he's still shaking with how much he wants it and Nick can't even deal with how hot that is.

"I'm going to--I'm really close," Nick manages breathlessly. "Are you--do you want--"

Harry whimpers out a noise that hopefully means yes, because that's all it takes for Nick to come so hard his vision whites out, moaning so loudly it rings out against the ceiling. Harry keeps sucking at him until Nick bats him away, completely wrung out, at which point Harry lets Nick's dick slip from his mouth in favour of panting for breath.

There's so much come, on Harry's mouth and chin and cheek and all over Nick's stomach and thighs, unusually much, and the base of Nick's cock is tingling like he came seconds from knotting. It’s never happened to him outside a heat before. Harry really sets himself apart.

"Come here, love," Nick croaks, shit if they keep at it like this his voice will be wrecked by Sunday, and gives Harry's arm a light tug to get him moving. "Let me take care of you."

In the end he doesn't have to, because Harry comes the moment his cock rubs up against Nick's belly and he buries his face into Nick's neck, sobbing wetly. Nick helps him ride out the aftershocks with one hand on his arse and the other cupped gently over the back of his neck, until Harry collapses completely onto his chest, whimpering sobs turning into wet gasping breaths.

"You okay?" Nick asks, gently stroking his hand up and down Harry's sweaty back until he stops breathing quite as hard.

"'M good." He smacks his lips and swallows. "Filthy."

Nick chuckles. "We both are, and the bed."

"Need new sheets and a shower." Harry finally lifts his head to look at Nick. There's come all over his face.

"A shower might not be enough," Nick says, trying to wipe some of it away. "You might need an exorcism."

Harry giggles. "Yes, hello pastor, I came so much on my boyfriend I think he might be possessed. Pastor? Pastor?"

Nick laughs mostly because Harry looks so pleased with himself. "You're an idiot," he says, giving Harry a kiss. "I love you."

"Mmm." Harry doesn't let him get away with just a peck. "Love you too."

"Now I need an exorcism." Nick wipes at his chin.

"I'll call the pastor," Harry says and reaches for the phone.

He doesn't call for a pastor, but he does arrange to have the sheets changed and late lunch delivered while they shower. He returns the receiver to the cradle and returns to his previous position of being gorgeous and sticky all over Nick.

"Shower?" He smiles, all dimples and reddened mouth.

"Yeah." Nick pushes up to kiss him. "I'd rather not traumatise the maid with my hairy bits."

"Freckly bits." Harry kisses Nick's cheek, probably getting come all over him. "Best bits. I love your bits."

"I've noticed." Nick gives Harry's bum a squeeze. "Pretty fond of your bits too. This bit right here is good for example."

Harry laughs, giving Nick another kiss before levering himself up and rolling off the bed. "Come on," he says, shaking his bum enticingly. "Shower time."

Harry has too much energy for someone who just came twice, Nick thinks, but Harry's wriggly arse is a pretty good incentive to get up. He puts a hand on it as soon as he catches up and Harry grins at him over his shoulder.

"Knew you wouldn't be able to resist the jiggy bit," he says and then goes on to sing a truly awful rendition of Getting Jiggy With It that doesn't end until they're under the shower spray. Nick's boyfriend is the best.

\--

It kind of strikes Nick when they're sat at the table next to the freshly made bed, eating the room service lunch Harry just ordered, that Harry is so used to this life already. He's nineteen years old and already so much more put together than Nick is at twenty-eight.

"So you're kind of amazing," Nick mumbles over the remains of his pasta, poking Harry's leg with his toes. "Just so you know."

Harry grins at him with his mouth full.

"You're also disgusting, but what can you do."

Harry laughs and nearly chokes on his food. Case in point. Nick watches him carefully to make sure he doesn't actually choke and rubs his knee with his toes. He wonders what his teenaged self, who wanted nothing more than to be Beta, or an Omega, or just a little less chubby and a lot more buff, would think if he could see Nick now. That boy believed very fiercely in love but didn't think he'd ever find it, and Nick wishes he could go back in time just to tell him about Harry. Show him a picture maybe. Brag a bit, if he's honest. You'll get your dream job, kiddo, and also the best possible boy. Chin up.

"I want to go back in time and tell myself about you."

"Yeah?" Harry sounds a bit rough from his coughing fit still and Nick nudges his glass closer.

"I was a pretty miserable teen; would've been nice to know there'd be a light at the end of the tunnel."

"An oncoming train of love." Harry nods sagely.

Nick laughs, completely overcome by fondness. He didn't even know he was even capable of this much emotion. He had believed in love very fiercely when he was seventeen, but by the time he hit his mid-twenties, he'd mostly grown out of it and now Harry's gone and made him a believer again.

"So, um--" Harry pretends to be very interested in his nearly empty plate. "Like when you dated that Alpha, were you unhappy then?"

"Yeah." Nick hesitates, nudging his feet against Harry's under the table. "I didn't really realise it then. You know like sometimes you have to get to a better place to realise how bad the place you were in was? A bit like that."

Harry nods even if he probably doesn't get it, not really. Nick doesn't hold it against him, he didn't get it either, not until much later. 

"All the other Alphas at my school were proper athletic types and I was a bit chubby and a lot awkward and I spent a lot of time wanting to be someone else or just somewhere else." Nick picks at a loose thread on his shirt, not quite able to meet Harry's eyes."I met Brad the summer between sixth form and uni and I don't know, he was into the whole Alpha on Alpha thing and I just wanted to be someone else." 

Nick hesitates and Harry reaches across the table to take his hand, squeezing his fingers. It's all the encouragement he needs to go on. "He wasn't mean or anything. I really liked him, but we weren't a very good fit sexually and I didn't know how to ask for the things I wanted, or even what I wanted really, back then." 

This is more than Nick has talked about his dating life in years, aside from the occasional joke cracked on the radio and it makes him feel exposed. The warm pressure of Harry's fingers curled around his helps though; trust is a wonderfully curious thing. 

"I met him at a charity dinner a couple of years ago and he's married to a beta now," Nick adds. "I don't know, maybe he was still looking too." Nick squeezes Harry's fingers, suddenly desperate to change the subject. "So how about you?"

"I think you know my entire dating history," Harry's knowing look says he knows exactly what Nick's trying to do. "It tends to make the papers."

"No boys then?" Nick asks, even though he already figured as much.

"Kissed one on holiday once. His name was Sean. He was nice."

Nick will probably frown at every Sean he meets for the rest of his life, which is so staggeringly insane he's appalled with himself.

"I really wanted to touch his cock. We kissed a bit and I could feel he was hard. I really wanted to put my hand on it but his mum called for him so--" He shrugs. "But I guess your cock was worth waiting four years for. It's very nice."

Nick's mouth twitches. "It's very nice?"

"It's great. It's a great cock. Best cock I ever touched." Harry actually looks flustered, which is the best thing to ever happen to Nick. "It's lovely, I mean. A lovely cock."

Nick can't hold back any longer, laughter welling up from his belly and spilling from his mouth in unstoppable guffaws. 

"Stop laughing at me," Harry whines.

"I'm not laughing at you," Nick gasps.

"You are. I'm sorry I'm not as good at complimenting dicks as your ex-boyfriends."

"Awww, no, baby. Come here." Nick's still laughing a little but he gestures for Harry. "Give us a cuddle."

Harry comes, even if he's still pouting, gingerly sitting down on Nick's lap with his knees dangling on either sides of Nick's hips. It's maybe not the best idea for Nick's bruises, but he can't really bring himself to care, especially not once he's wormed his hands in under Harry's shirt to touch his back.

Harry sinks his hands into Nick's hair and gives him a kiss. "You're a terrible boyfriend," he says. "Here I am, saying nice things about your cock, and you laugh at me? Awful. When you get a compliment you say thank you."

"Thank you."

"Well, it's too late now."

Nick nibbles a bit on Harry's pouty lower lip and then licks into his mouth for a proper kiss, not pulling back until he feels breathless and overwhelmed.

"I can't believe you flew all the way to New York for me," Harry murmurs, touching their foreheads together.

"Me neither."

"Heyyy." Harry pulls lightly on his hair.

"Not like that." He rubs Harry's back soothingly. "You're well worth crossing oceans for but the last time I tried a romantic gesture I found my so called boyfriend in bed with someone else."

"That's awful." Harry presses a gentle kiss to Nick's mouth. "I'm sorry that happened to you. If you tell me his name I'll make sure he's never seen again."

Nick laughs. "It was a long time ago now. I'm not mad anymore." Nick runs his hands up Harry's back and pulls him into another kiss. "If I'd stayed with him I'd have never met you."

"Well, if we ever run into him you have to point him out so I can kick him in the shins."

"Please do. I want to see his face when international pop sensation Harry Styles off of One Direction randomly kicks him in the shins."

Harry leans back a little, letting his hands drop to Nick's shoulders. "I probably won't," he confesses.

"That's alright."Harry picks at Nick's t-shirt, looking thoughtful. "I should probably call Lena. I want to do this right."

He doesn't say 'do right by you' but that's what Nick thinks he means and it makes him feel like his chest might cave in. "Okay," he says simply.

Harry chews at his lower lip. "How do you think we should do this?"

"Carefully? I don't know. Do you want to come out?"

Harry shrugs, looking uneasy. "I don't want it to be a big deal. It shouldn't be a big deal."

He's right, but they both know that’s not how the world works. "We could keep people guessing for now?"

"How do you mean?"

"Just continue as we have until now. Not hide but not confirm anything either."

"I don't want to lie."

"You don't have to. If some asks me if we're an item and I answer with no comment, people will read between the lines but they can't print more than speculation."

Harry nods, looking thoughtful. "I like that." He wriggles his phone out of his pocket. "I'll just call her then and see what she says."

"From my lap?"

"I want to get the tone right to begin with."

\--

Their small meeting with Lena very quickly turns into a large terrifying meeting with all of the PR and management representatives who tag along on tour held in one of the hotel's conference rooms. Nick spends most of it clutching Harry's hand and experiencing severe stress-induced vertigo, but in the end their non-plan gets the green light.

He feels strangely raw as one of the security guys walks them back to Harry's room. They keep a foot of space between them, walking quickly with their heads down, and Nick's all too aware Harry will have to leave almost straight away for the arena.

"Twenty minutes," the security guy says when they reach Harry's door. He wasn't included in the meeting, and the look on his face is carefully neutral but he’s clearly guessed.

"Okay," Harry says sliding his keycard into the door. "See you soon. Thanks, Brian."

The moment the door closes on Brian's patient face, they fall into each other's arms for a minute of very intense clinging. It wasn't a bad meeting--no one was shocked or angry or dismissive--but Jesus, Nick's never felt more like a pawn in his life.

Harry pulls back first. "I should get ready," he says, not quite meeting Nick's eyes.

"Okay." Nick lets him go, following him into the main room and leaning against the wall while Harry checks he has all his essentials. "Do you want my shirt?" he asks, watching Harry go through the dresser, listlessly poking at his t-shirts. Harry nods, pushing the drawer closed without getting up.

"You okay, darling?" Nick asks carefully.

Harry shakes his head, jerkily.

"Oh, come here, love." Nick holds out his arms Harry crosses the floor in less than two seconds, burrowing into Nick's chest for a limpet cling, shoulders shaking. "Shhh," Nick mumbles, kissing the top of Harry's head and hugging him tightly. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," Harry sobs. "Nothing's wrong."

Hormones, then, or he feels as oddly raw as Nick does. Nick rubs slow soothing circles into Harry's back and hums lowly under his breath. It's probably not very soothing to someone with an ear for pitch but Harry doesn't seem to mind, keeping his face pressed against Nick's shoulder until his sobs peter out and he's just breathing thickly.

"Feel better?" Nick asks, loosening his hold to allow Harry some space.

"I didn't feel bad to begin with," Harry mutters, pulling back to give Nick a red-faced, wet-eyed, trembling smile. "This is awful."

Nick gently thumbs the tears from his cheeks and kisses his forehead. "The meeting was pretty good, yeah?"

"Yeah, it was good." Harry wipes his face with the back of his hand. "I got snot on your shirt."

"Still want it?" Nick asks, pulling the wet spot away from his skin.

"Yeah. I'm just going to wash my face."

"Okay."

While Harry's in the bathroom Nick dabs at the wet spot with a handful of complimentary tissues and stares at his vague reflection in the windows. He doesn't particularly look like a guy who just went public with a very high profile, potentially inflammatory, relationship in front of a room full of strangers, but he does look a bit like an idiot in love. He should call his mum maybe, tell her the good news.

The bathroom door clicks open and Nick turns around to find Harry standing in the doorway with his t-shirt balled up in his hand. Nick's stomach clenches up with how effortlessly gorgeous he is.He shrugs out of his t-shirt and holds it out, taking the one Harry offers him instead and ducking into it.

"Mmm." Harry smoothes his shirt out over Nick's chest. "The only acceptable way to cover up your chest hair is with my clothes." He slides a hand up to thumb at where a few strands are visible above the collar, before leaning in to press a kiss there. It's kind of ridiculous how it makes Nick feel warm all over.

"Hold that thought 'til I get back, yeah?" Harry leans back to smile at Nick, eyes all soft and green and lovely.

"Pfft. I will be hitting up the hotel bar before you're even out of the building."

"Of course you will." Harry leans in and presses a kiss to Nick's mouth. "I have to go." He belies his words by leaning in for another kiss.

"Stop kissing me then," Nick murmurs, nipping playful at his lower lip.

"In a minute."

In the end Brian has to knock on the door to make them pull apart. 

\--

Nick handles Harry being gone about as well as he did the last time. He's rubbish at it. It's already late in England so he can't call his mum and he sort of wants to tell her face to face anyway. She loves Harry and he thinks she'll be happy for them but Harry's still nineteen and an international popstar to boot. It's a lot for a mother's heart to handle.

In the end he eats a late dinner and crawls into bed around ten, falling asleep without even meaning to. When he wakes up there’s a heavy weight on his back and damp hair all over his neck.

"It's raining," Harry mumbles, kissing Nick behind the ear. "It might be another deluge."

Nick hides his unbearably fond smile into the pillows, reaching around to pat Harry's hip. "At least we won't die virgins," he says solemnly.

"Speak for yourself." Harry does his best to get to Nick's mouth, he doesn't really succeed. "I'm at least half a virgin still. Back half."

Nick manages to snort, laugh and be impossibly turned on at the same time. It's a feat.

"Don't laugh at me. You always laugh at me."

Nick dumps Harry off his back and onto the pillows, turning around to look at him. Harry's grinning, all dimples and shining eyes. Nick's heart might burst with affection.

"Did you have a good show?" He asks, moving close enough to press a kiss to Harry's grinning mouth. "I'm assuming you were fantastic. How were the other lads? Passable?"

Harry giggles, fisting a hand into Nick's hair to keep him close. "They were good, great, even. You should come tomorrow. See for yourself." He's quiet for a moment, toying with Nick's hair. "I really want you to."

Nick swallows thickly, a strange mix of fear and anticipation rolling through his stomach. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Harry pulls him closer even closer and speaks against his mouth. "I'm really sure."

Nick has to kiss him then and he doesn't stop until his lips feels raw from it and his dick is thick in his pants. It's crazy, the effect Harry has on him.

"So you'll come tomorrow then?" Harry sounds sure but there's something vulnerable about the soft tilt of his mouth.

"Yeah. Anything for you." It's probably the truest thing Nick has ever said. 

"Oh, really?" Harry perks up.

"Within reason," Nick adds quickly.

Harry pouts. "I'm always reasonable. Hey, will you jerk off on me?"

"Er--"

Harry slips a hand down to cup Nick's dick over his pants. "Or you could just rub yourself all over me." He licks his lips, eyes darkening. "Fuck yeah, let's do that. Hold that thought." He pats Nick's cock gently before moving to undress himself. As if Harry getting naked is somehow likely to make Nick less hard. It occurs to Nick that he's a very, very lucky man.

"I feel blessed," he says, as Harry emerges from his shirt with his hair in wild disarray and his abs all over the place. "Truly." He touches Harry's hip cut with a fingertip. It doesn't seem fair he gets Harry when Harry just gets him. Not really an even trade in any way, even if Nick, objectively, is pretty awesome.

Harry wriggles out of his jeans and then his pants, leaving him wonderfully, gloriously, naked. Nick stares a bit, absently rubbing at Harry's hip.

"You're really fucking hot, popstar. Did I ever tell you that?" He lifts his gaze to Harry's face with some reluctance. Harry's body is just so _nice_ to look at.

"You might have mentioned it." Harry grins at him. "Now come on, get your kit off."

"Constantly these demands, King Harold." Nick drops his t-shirt on Harry's face.

Harry pulls the t-shirt away, giving Nick a dark eyed stare.

"What?" Nick asks, staring back. Harry looks as if he's had a _thought_ again. Nick wonders if he's a professor in this one too.

"Nothing, I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Just--" Harry flushes a bit. "Coming home to find you naked in bed."

"That's a really lame fantasy, love." Nick slips his pants down over his arse and kicks them off.

"Not to me." Harry reaches out to rub his palm across Nick's chest. "Used to think about it all the time, what it would be like if we were together." He lifts his gaze to Nick's face. "You coming back from the show to find me still in bed. I used to think about what it would be like if instead of  
annoying me until I got up you'd crawl back into bed and kiss me." Harry bites his lip, looking thoughtful. "My fantasy life really is kind of lame."

Nick laughs and tugs him in for a kiss. "Sweet though."

"I really can't wait to come home and have it be like before, but more." Harry looks inordinately excited at the prospect of being Nick's live in lover. They really did this all backwards. "Hey, we can have sex on the couch and, oh god, the bath. Nick, we can have sex in the bath."

Bath sex, in Nick's experience, isn't really all that the movies has made it out to be, but Harry looks so happy about it that he just hums in agreement. Of course they can have sex in the bathtub. He'd have sex on the hallway floor if that's what Harry wanted.

"Come here," Harry says impatiently, tugging on Nick's arm until he shifts to rest between Harry's spread thighs, putting them chest to chest. "Oh, that's good," he murmurs, leaning up for a kiss.

It is good, dicks rubbing up between their bellies and tongues tangling wetly. Nick's leaking already, and he reaches in between them, catching some of his natural slick on his fingers and spreading it over Harry's dick. Harry gasps, digging his fingers into Nick's shoulder blades and writhing against his stomach, straining up until he finds Nick's mouth for another deep wet kiss.

It's really doing it for Nick, that's the thing. Not the hot slick slide of their dicks, even if that's obviously amazing too, but the whole scent thing, getting his scent all over Harry, marking him, consciously making him smell as if he's Nick's. He reaches in between them again, wetting his fingers and dragging them up Harry's torso, thumbing at Harry's nipples and spreading his scent over the swallow tattoos.

He drops kisses all over Harry's face, his mouth, his neck, his shoulder, anywhere he can reach while still keeping up the steady rhythm of his hips until Harry is a panting, whimpering sweaty mess. It's so good, the hot slick press of Harry's stomach against his dick and the way Harry writhes and clings, completely gone with need.

"Come on me," Harry begs. "Please. You have to."

Nick leans back slightly, bracing himself on one hand and getting the other in between them to curl around his dick, jacking himself furiously. Harry whimpers, staring in between them with his mouth open around his panted breaths. His dick is flushed and slick with both their precome and arches over his stomach in a perfect curve, but he's not even trying for friction, holding himself completely still aside from his hands that have found their way to Nick's sweaty chest to rub at his nipples.

That's all it takes, Harry's thumbs on his nipples and the incredible sight of him spread out and wanting. Nick comes with a deep helpless groan, shooting ropes of come all over Harry's stomach, dick and chest, painting him with it.

"Oh," Harry breathes and then he's coming too, dick jerking as he spurts all over his belly without even being touched.

Nick recovers first, getting a hand on Harry's cock to wring the last shivering pulses of come and pleasure out of him.

"Wow," Harry croaks, reaching down to touch his own stomach, dragging his fingers through their mingled come. "There's so much."

"Yeah," Nick agrees weakly. He doesn't know what it is about Harry that makes his responses about four hundred percent more Alpha, but god, he can't get enough of the sight of Harry covered in his come.

"All over me." Harry slides his fingers up over his torso, rubbing Nick's come into his skin. "I can't...."

Harry lifts his fingers to his mouth, licking at them and Nick actually whimpers. It's too much. All of it is too much. He doesn't know how to deal with this being his actual life. Harry's eyelashes flutter, cheeks hollowing around his fingers, and somehow his dick is filling out again, thickening against his stomach.

Nick shifts, moving to sit back fully on his haunches with his knees on either side of Harry's hips and Harry's thighs resting across his, and gets a hand around Harry's cock, easily stroking it to full hardness. He has a such a gorgeous cock and suddenly Nick wants nothing more than to feel it inside him. There's condoms and lube in his bag and he's halfway off the bed before he's even finished the thought.

"No," Harry whines, grabbing ineffectually for him. "Don't go."

"I'm just going to--" Nick drops to his knees by his bag and roots around until he finds the supplies hidden at the bottom. "Ha. Get this." He felt like a creep packing it before he left, but he's ever so grateful now.

"Oh," Harry says when Nick drops the supplies on the bed and crawls onto it himself. "Are you going to fuck me?" He's already pulling his legs up in invitation. Christ, what did Nick do in a past life to deserve this boy?

"Nah," Nick says. "I was thinking I'd go for a ride."

"Oh!" Harry drops his legs back on the bed. "Is that--do you--wait, let me--" Nick laughs as Harry scrambles to pile the pillow so he can recline comfortably against the headboard. He looks a right mess still and Nick changes his mind, getting up from the bed again.

"Where are you going now?" Harry asks.

"Bathroom."

"Oh, okay."

Nick grabs one of the spare towels and wets half of it under the tap while studying himself in the mirror above the sink. His hair is a mess, he notices, half flat, half standing up, and the skin around his mouth is reddened from kissing. He can't stop smiling, even when he tries to make his sternest face his lips stay stubbornly upturned. It makes his eyes look really wrinkled but he figures that's okay. Crow sparks are totally sexy.

"Do you like crow sparks?" He asks as he crawls back onto the bed with the towel. 

Harry blinks at him.

"Like at corners of someone's eyes? Pretty sexy, yeah?"

Harry makes a face that is somehow fond and amused at the same time. "I think it's safe to say." He reaches out to cup Nick's chin and pull him into kissing distance. "That I love all your wrinkly, saggy bits equally." He kisses Nick's mouth and then he pulls back to smile at him. "But I do admit that this bit right here." He leans in to kiss the corner of Nick's eye. "Is one of my faves." He pulls back to study Nick's face thoughtfully. "Your eyelashes are pretty great too."

Nick didn't know it was possible to love like this. If they were in a cartoon hearts would be constantly dancing around his head and every time he opened his mouth roses and diamonds and kittens would spill out until they no longer fit in the frame, and also, Harry would be wearing a crown. He should commission someone to draw that comic and then put it on a card and give it to Harry because Harry is amazing.

"Earth to Nicholas," Harry says, pressing a kiss to Nick's forehead, the tip of his nose and his mouth. "Where did you go in the giant head of yours?"

"Giant," Nick pouts. It's true, but still. "Hey, do you like my giant bits equally as well?"

"Yes, I love your cock," Harry responds with a terrible show of dimples that makes Nick love him even _more_.

"See, now I'm going to have to commission someone to make that card for you," Nick grumbles, shifting to straddle to Harry's lap because there's sex to be had and somehow Harry is _still_ hard. He's clearly a freak of nature.

"What card?" Harry asks, giving himself seven double chins in an attempt to watch Nick clean his torso, which was a terrible idea. Nick was not prepared for what he'd look like flushed and hard and _glistening_.

"Just a little card about how much I love you." Nick throws the towel aside without drying Harry off, wet is such a good look for him. "I can't tell you more, it'd ruin the surprise."

"Could you tell me more about the love bit then?" Harry asks hopefully, tracking Nick's movement as he reaches for the lube.

"I love all your non-saggy, non-wrinkly, incredibly fit bits equally." Nick grins, popping the cap of the bottle and pouring some slick over his fingers. "All your bits are in my top ten list of the world's best bits."

Harry giggles. "Above Justin Bieber? I'm honoured."

"Well..." Nick considers this as he drops the lube beside Harry and reaches behind himself to rub his slick fingers over his opening. Harry's is the one to gasp, trailing his fingers along Nick's arm until he can feel where Nick is touching himself. "Miles above him, babe," Nick decides, because the way Harry is touching him right now is a lot, one hand firm on Nick's thigh and the other exploring gently between his cheeks. Christ.

Nick sinks two fingers into himself, revelling in the slight burn and the way Harry sucks in a breath and rubs his fingertips over Nick's knuckles. He doesn't need much prep, never did, but, god, he'd do this forever just for the look on Harry's face. He wasn't hard when he started and he doesn't have the refractory period of a teenager any more, but his dick is definitely taking an interest now, filling out and rising towards his stomach.

"Is that good?" Harry asks. "Do you like that?"

"Yeah." Nick lets his eyes slip shut and puts his free hand on Harry's shoulder for balance, angling his fingers until yes _there_. Harry makes a soft noise and buries his face into Nick's neck, rubbing his fingers up behind Nick's balls, and, fuck, that's good.

"Use your knuckles, love," Nick instructs. "Press a bit harder."

Harry follows his instructions to the letter and Nick lets out a helpless moan. He could seriously come from this, despite the somewhat awkward angle, because the dual assault on his prostate is making him see stars. He's sweating already, over his chest and between his shoulder blades, and if he hasn't started dripping, he will in a minute.

He eases his fingers out of the hot clutch of his body because the temptation to just keep fucking himself until he comes all over Harry again is too real. Harry immediately slips his fingers down to rub over Nick's hole, making him shake with how much he wants it.

"Christ," Nick says weakly, fumbling for the condoms.

"Can I?" Harry asks breathlessly, teasing Nick open with the very tips of his fingers. He's plenty slick from the lube Nick smeared everywhere, so he nods shakily.

Harry wastes no time sinking his fingers into Nick until he bottoms out, keeping the pressure slow and steady. Nick whimpers, unable to help himself from rocking back against Harry's fingers, wanting them deeper.

"Fuck," Harry gasps. "You're so tight."

"Bet you say that to all the girls," Nick pants, moaning when Harry gets him just right and stays there, lighting Nick up from inside.

"Mmm, that's the spot, right?" Harry rocks his fingers in and out in tiny increments, it's too much and not nearly enough, pulling moan after moan from Nick's lips even when he tries to hold them back. "I love it when you get loud," Harry confesses, licking at Nick's collarbone.

"Bet the neighbours don't," Nick manages, gathering his scattered brain cells enough to get the condom wrapper open.

"Don't care." Harry noses his way down Nick's chest until he finds a nipple and sucks it into his mouth. Well, if he thought Nick was loud before. He tangles his fingers into Harry's hair and keeps him pressed to his chest while he fucks back against Harry's fingers, taking him deeper, wanting _more_. Harry lets Nick's nipple go with one last nibble, and Nick remembers he can have more. He can have so much more.

"Cock," he says dumbly. "I want... Harry please."

"Fuck," Harry curses, gently slipping his fingers out of Nick's body. "Where's the condom?"

Nick hands it over watching as Harry rolls it down his cock and slicks himself up with way too much lube. He doesn't even wait for Harry to get his hands out of the way before he's sinking down, letting Harry's cock slip in between his cheeks and snub against his hole.

"Oh god," Harry clamps his hands onto Nick's thighs and Nick reaches behind himself, holding Harry's dick steady as he slowly lowers himself further.

They both groan when the head pops past the initial resistance. NIck feels a glorious slow burn until he’s fully seated in Harry's lap.

"Don't move," Harry chokes out to clenched teeth. "Don't even breathe."

God, Harry's cock is a work of art. It's the best thing that ever happened to Nick. It's okay to just sit on it. He can sit on it forever. He's never going to get off this glorious cock.

"And you seriously have to shut up." Harry clamps a hand over Nick's mouth, cutting off his musings about Harry's dick that were apparently happening out loud. It's Harry's own fault his dick is a mind altering experience.

Harry lifts his hand and Nick keeps his mouth carefully shut. Harry's hair is dark with sweat along his hairline and his cheeks glow a deep red. "You seriously have to stop being so fucking hot and perfect all the time," he says, chin jutting mulishly. Nick thinks that's an unfair thing to get chinned for. He can't help that he's fit.

"Shhhh," Nick tells him, putting a finger across his lips. "You're ruining my enjoyment of your magnificent dick. Can I move now?"

"No," Harry says, but then he rocks his hips up, just the tiniest bit, and knocks the air right out of Nick's lungs. "No, fuck that. _Yes_."

"Now you're talking."

Sitting on Harry's dick was great, but moving on Harry's dick is better. He doesn't ride as much as he rocks, making Harry's dick rub up against all the right places.

He's aware that he's babbling disjointed words about how great Harry's dick is, how great Harry is, and how much Nick loves him, but he just can't stop. Harry's sliding his hands all over Nick's skin, touching him _everywhere_ and Nick can't get enough. He would return the favour, but he's pretty sure that if he lets go of Harry's shoulders right now he'll shoot straight into the stratosphere and explode in a burst of light.

Then one of Harry's roaming hands finds Nick's dick and the other grabs his not-bruised arse cheek and he's completely done for. He comes so hard he thinks he's about to shake apart at the seams and he definitely feels the base of his dick swell, drawing his orgasm out for ages. He's sort of dimly aware of Harry thrusting up hard and moaning his name as he comes too, but it's lost to the tides of his own overwhelming orgasm.

When it's finally over he sags into Harry's arms, breathing hard against his neck. He whimpers weakly when Harry shifts and rubs up against his everything. Even his nipples are oversensitive.

"You okay?" Harry sounds shaky, as if that was a bit overwhelming for him too. 

"I think I'm dead," Nick answers hoarsely. "Don't make me move."

"Have to pull out," Harry says apologetically and then he does, which is awful of him. Nick feels as if he's been left wide open.

"I'm bereft," he mumbles, rubbing his nose against Harry's neck.

"Shhh, it's okay."

And then Harry's fingers are right there, touching him gently, easing him down and Nick feels so lucky he might cry. He probably _is_ crying a bit, his face feels wet.

"That was amazing," Harry says, kissing Nick's ear and the side of his face. "You're amazing. I love you."

"You too," Nick mumbles, snuggling closer. "Lots."

It's not the most comfortable position he's ever cuddled in and he's sure Harry's legs are going numb by now but he's not quite ready to let go.

"You're really something, Haz," he whispers. "I'm so happy I met you."

"Me too," Harry says, wrapping his arms around Nick's back and holding him tightly. "So, so happy."

\--

Nick wakes up at 5:30 again. Partly because of jetlag but mostly, he thinks, because he's acquired a very warm, very heavy popstar blanket overnight that’s snuffling adorably into his ear and also sort of absently humping the back of his thigh. The humping is way hotter than it has any right to be, and Nick is a sad, sad person.

"Babe," he says, gently elbowing Harry in the side. "If you're going to rub off on my thigh, you better be awake for it so I feel less like a pervert for enjoying it."

"'m not rubbing off on your thigh," Harry protests sleepily, clearly offended. He shifts minutely and lets out a surprised noise. "Oh, maybe I am."

Nick has to breathe into his pillow for a moment, just to make sure he doesn't projectile vomit love everywhere, before he says, "I could give you a hand with that if you want."

"Mmm, yeah." Harry kisses the back of Nick's neck. "I do want." He starts shifting off Nick but freezes halfway. "It's 5:40."

"You woke me up, but if you want to reschedule your blowjob I guess I'll just--"

"No, no that's fine. We can do that now." Harry rolls over on his back, freeing Nick, and Nick shifts to look at him. He's still gorgeous. What a surprise. Harry flutters his eyelashes enticingly and pulls the covers away to reveal his erection. "Ta da," he says because he's an idiot and Nick loves him.

"Gosh," Nick says. "All that just for me?"

"Better believe it, baby." Harry's eyebrow waggle needs some work, but Nick's easy for him so he drops a kiss on Harry's lips and then crawls down between his legs. "No tongue?" Harry asks mournfully. "The romance is already dead."

"Your dick doesn't care about morning breath." Nick kisses the tip to prove his point.

"Neither do I." Harry's pout is adorable, but Nick's not going to abandon his new best friend just because Harry wants a proper snog.

"I'll kiss you after," Nick promises, curling a hand around the base of Harry's cock and giving the flushed tip another kiss. "I'm busy."

"I guess that's okay." Harry already sounds a bit breathless, reaching down to pet Nick's hair. "Go ahead."

Despite his rather prolific sex life, Nick's not had a lot of morning sex, and it's been years since he got his mouth on a cock first thing in the morning. He's definitely been missing out. His entire world narrows down to the stretch of his lips, the taste of Harry's skin, and Harry's gentle fingers in his hair.

It's way too early for finesse, but Harry's heavy breaths and rhythmically twitching hips suggest that he doesn't mind Nick's sloppy suction. Especially when Nick slides the thumb of his free hand in under Harry's balls to press against his perineum, giving him a prostate massage from the outside.

"You can put your finger in me if you want," Harry gasps, leaking across Nick's tongue.

Nick does want, but it's early and he's lazy and he wants to be able to fully enjoy it. He does slip his fingers in between Harry's cheeks though, rubbing over his opening. Harry's hips lift off the bed.

"Oh my god," he moans, fingers clenching in Nick's hair. "Nick, I'm--"

It doesn't take much after that. Nick catches the first pulses of come on his tongue before he pulls off to swallow and lets the rest dribble over his working fist, taking a moment to appreciate how lovely and silly Harry looks in the throes of orgasm. Then he cleans up the mess he made with broad swipes of his tongue until Harry's tugs on his hair become desperate and he gives in to the need to kiss him.

"I love tasting myself on your tongue," Harry mumbles when they pull apart. "And how red your lips get from sucking me." He thumbs at Nick's lower lip and then kisses him again. "Like your stubble too."

Nick's distracted by the way Harry is touching his face and looking at him all gentle, so he doesn't even notice the hand going for his cock until it's right there, startling a moan out of him.

Harry laughs and kisses him again. "What do you want? Want my mouth?"

Nick thinks that there are probably very few gay men in this world who don’t want Harry's mouth.

"If you want," he says coyly, but he's pretty sure the wet smear he leaves on Harry's thigh sort of belies his true feelings on the matter.

"I do."

Harry kisses a trail down Nick's neck to his sternum where he pauses to rub his face into Nick's chest hair.

"You having a moment?" Nick asks, threading his fingers into Harry's hair. His dick has found a really nice resting place against Harry's abs. If Harry just keeps doing his popstar breathing he can stay exactly where he is for however long he wants.

"Yeah," Harry mumbles. He noses around until he finds one of Nick's nipples and licks across it, humming happily at the back of his throat when it stiffens up almost immediately.

"Fuck that's nice." Nick tightens his fingers in Harry's hair. He's always been partial to a bit of nipple play and everything is more when it's Harry.

Harry hums again, sucking Nick's nipple into his mouth and bringing his hand up to trace a circle around the other one. It's really doing it for Nick, sparks of pleasure going off everywhere and making his dick throb against Harry's stomach. It's even better when Harry switches sides and pinches lightly at the nipple he just pulled off of. Christ.

"You're humping my stomach," Harry points out.

"Shhhh. Just be a love go back to doing what you were doing."

Harry, of course, lifts his head completely, but he couples it with slowly rolling Nick's other nipple between his fingers, so Nick forgives himk.

"You like that." He's a fan of stating the obvious, Harry is.

"Yeah." Nick sounds a bit breathless, he realises, and everywhere their skin meets is damp with sweat. 

"Huh." Harry stiffens his tongue to a point and draws a wet circle around Nick's nipple, then he blows on it. Nick moans, thrusting up helplessly.

It's just that as an Alpha he tends to not get a lot of foreplay action. He mostly has temporary dalliances and people expect him to be in charge. He doesn't mind in general, but it does mean it's been a long time since he had someone play with his nipples, and damn it's good.

Harry hums again, licking at Nick's nipple once more before switching sides again and getting his right hand in under his belly to wrap around Nick's cock. It's all downhill from there, or uphill, or whatever way it is that leads to spectacular orgasms from Harry Styles nibbling on your nipples and touching your cock, because that's the road Nick is on. 

At the very last possible instance, when Nick is a trembling wreck with his hands fisted into the sheets, Harry gives Nick's nipples one last bite and pinch and then gets his mouth on Nick's cock.comes almost instantly with a shout that he thinks might have them evicted.

He's useless afterwards, barely even able to help getting Harry off again but Harry doesn't seem to mind the dreamy sort of way Nick touches him while he jerks off onto Nick's belly. 

Afterwards Harry collapses more or less on top of Nick with his head on Nick's chest. "Love you. Nap now," he mumbles and then he's out like a light.

Nick pets his hair for a bit and considers wriggling away from the way Harry's knee is digging into his thigh, but he falls back to sleep before he can muster the energy to move.

\--

It starts to sink in as Nick wriggles into his jeans after the second much needed shower of the day that this is really happening, they're actually doing this, and with this realization comes the worry about all the ways it could go horribly wrong. Nick doesn't care if he takes a few slams in the press, he'll recover, but he feels strangely protective of Harry's image and he doesn't want to be instrumental in ruining it.

What if Harry loses all of his fans and is kicked out of the band? It's not very likely but it could happen, Nick's sure. He shrugs on the flannel shirt Harry picked out and tries to think of a way to bring it up without saying "Will you still love me if I ruin your life? Because I'm very invested you still loving me and also in not ruining your life."

"You have to roll the sleeves up," Harry says, clearly not picking up on Nick's emotional turmoil. "And not that many buttons." Harry tuts like a little old grandma but undoes buttons one handed like a pro. He studies his handiwork with a pleased smile. "That's better."

He buries his face into the open v of Nick's shirt, pressing his nose into Nick's chest hair for moment, then he straightens up, frowning. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." At least nothing Nick knows how to articulate.

"You smell..." Harry noses against Nick's neck. "Upset? I don't know, anxious?" He pulls back, frowning at Nick.

Nick reaches out to gently smooth the frown out with his thumbs. "I'm just... this is huge, you know? It's going to blow up and I can't guarantee it won't be in our faces. I don't want people to talk trash about you, I won't stand for it."

Harry's chin takes on a stubborn tilt and he reaches out to grab Nick's face between his hands. "If someone wants to trash talk me for being with you then they're not my kind of person and they can go to hell." He gives Nick a hard kiss. "And if things get too shit with the speculation we'll make a statement."

"But what if--" Nick chews on the inside of his lower lip and tries to formulate a version of his worst case scenario that won't have Harry laughing in his face. "What if your numbers drop and the other lads get angry and vote you out of the band?"

Harry laughs in his face.

"It could happen," Nick says petulantly. Louis never has liked him very much, and even if he's making an effort for Harry, Nick's sure Louis would rather see Harry dating nearly anyone else. "Or maybe they'd make you choose between me and the band." Nick experiences an intense moment of vertigo. That's it. They'll make Harry choose and obviously Harry will pick the band and then--

"I could get used to being your house husband," Harry says, smoothing his thumbs over Nick's cheekbones. "Sounds like an excellent idea for a future career." He smiles and his eyes are so soft Nick feels as if he's slowly sinking into a green sea. "They're not going to make me choose, you nutter. They know they'd lose."

"I'm not more important than One Direction," Nick says dumbly. Harry's band is very culturally relevant.

"You are to me," Harry says simply and seals it with a kiss.

It's decidedly unfair that Harry constantly outdoes him in the adult talk department, Nick thinks. He has a teenager's careless attitude, but he couples it with being one the most mature people Nick ever met. His ability to turn Nick's insides into a puddle of goo is just a bonus.

"I'll worship at your altar forever, King Harold." To Nick's alarm, he sounds a bit choked up, so he tugs Harry into a proper hug to hide any possible wet eye situation in his hair.

"I don't think that's what you do with kings these days," Harry points out, slipping his hands in under Nick's shirt and squeezing him hard.

"Don't care." Nick has a very personal relationship to his king. He can worship him if he wants.

"Forever sounds good though. Won't settle for less."

"Good." Marry me, Nick thinks, clutching Harry tighter. It's probably the most ludicrous thought he's had to date; Harry's _nineteen_ , and Nick’s changed his stance on marriage every other week, but dear god does he want it now. "Love you," he mumbles into Harry's hair, pressing his lips against Harry's head to make sure he stops there.

"Love you too." Harry pulls back to give him a kiss, giving Nick a crinkly eyed, dimpled smile that makes him look like a delighted cartoon character. There's definitely a marriage in his future if he wants it. Nick really hopes he wants it. "What are you thinking about?" Harry asks, poking his fingers against Nick's forehead. "You look sneaky."

Nick laughs. "And what do I smell like? Secrets?"

"Nah, you smell happy." He makes a face. "And a bit anxious still. Anxiously happy."

Nick glances at the closest clock. "Do I also smell like we're late? Because we are."

"Oh shit." Harry grabs Nick's discarded t-shirt and shrugs into it, re-emerging with his hair in wild disarray. "Come on then. Don't want to miss our ride."

\--

The backstage area at the arena feels huge after nearly three days spent holed up in a hotel room. Nick takes the opportunity to stretch his legs while Harry argues outfits with their stylist, Caroline, walking up and down seemingly endless concrete corridors with Cal for company.

"I'm sorry I showed up and stole your partner in crime," Nick says as they round a corner and start walking back toward the dressing rooms. He knows Harry usually spends a lot of his free time with Cal and Lou.

"I'm not." Cal smiles at him. "You make him happy."

Nick, determinedly, does not blush, but it's a very close thing. "He makes me happy too," he says instead, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. It feels weird to admit it out loud, huge, even though Cal is part of Harry's inner circle and already knew.

Cal clasps his shoulder briefly. "I'm happy for both you." The warmth in his voice is so sincere it makes Nick feel a bit wobbly. He's clearly not cut out for this love business; is it going to be like this all the time from now on?

"Thanks," Nick mumbles and this time he does blush a bit. How silly.

They make it back to the main backstage area but Cal leads him straight through it. "I'll show you a good spot to watch," he says. "Unless you want to come with me."

Cal will be taking pictures during the show from a ramp just under the ceiling, Nick is not interested.

"No, that's fine," Nick says quickly. "I think I'll stay on the floor."

Cal laughs and opens a door, leading Nick into the arena proper. Somehow Nick thought it'd be empty but of course it isn't, the doors are open and the fans are already pouring in. There's music playing over the speakers and the air vibrates with the noise of thousands of fans gearing up for a concert.

"There are ear plugs backstage," Cal says. "You should probably grab a pair."

Nick nods. It's already loud; he can't imagine what it'll be like when they're actually on. Cal leads him to a spot to the side of the stage where he'll have a good view of everything that happens. It's just a few feet away from the closest fans, but so far no one is looking in their direction, too busy finding their seats and jostling for the best position.

It's a relief to return to the relatively quiet backstage area where there aren't fans and cameras everywhere. Nick still gets the occasional curious look but at least no one shoves a camera in his face.

"I should get my gear in order," Cal says. "Will you be alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." Nick nods. "I'll just hang around Harry's dressing room for a while."

Harry isn't in his dressing room, but there's a nice plush couch and a fridge full of refreshments. Nick grabs a bottle of water and settles down to browse twitter. He's already been spotted it seems; a Harry-centric username has asked him if that was him they saw at the arena. He doesn't reply.

It's nearly an hour before Harry returns. Nick’s slid down into reclining position with his feet sticking out over one arm of the couch and his head propped up against the other.

"Hiya," Harry says, closing the door behind him with a quiet snick. "Sorry that took so long. We met a group of fans."

"It's okay," Nick says, waving a hand at him. He's been catching up on gossip on his phone and texting with a few of his friends. He's pretty used to waiting around backstage for one thing or another.

"You hungry?" Harry asks. "There's catering."

He sits down on the very edge of the couch next to Nick's hip. He's changed into a simple black fitted t-shirt and his hair is gelled back from his face in a wave over the crown of his head. He looks edible. Nick turns onto his side to give him a bit more space to sit and touches his fingers to Harry's knee where it peeks out of his ripped jeans. He's very fond of Harry's knees.

"I could eat," he says. It's been a while since they had lunch.

Harry leans back, trapping Nick against the back of the sofa, and drops a hand to touch the soft skin at the inside of Nick's elbow. "I'm really glad you're here," he says, tracing his fingers down Nick's arm to where he's absently plucking at the loose threads around Harry's knees.

"I'm happy to be here," Nick replies. He's nervous and excited and sort of terrified but he's definitely happy too. "I've already been spotted once."

"Yeah?" Harry sounds a bit breathless. "The internet's going to explode."

It'll make the papers for sure, Nick thinks, and spark another round of media speculation. It makes his stomach twist to think about it.

"You're still okay with this, yeah?"

Harry grabs Nick's hand and laces their fingers together. "Yes," he says simply, lifting Nick's hand to kiss his knuckles. Nick frees his hand but only to cup Harry's lovely cheek, thumbing at the corner of his mouth. Harry's eyes flutter shut and after a moment he gives into gravity and slides sideways into Nick's arms. It takes some rearranging to get them into a proper spoon but when they do it's achingly familiar. This couch is a bit on the short side and there's no telly to watch, but they've been in this particular position hundreds of times before.

"I remember the first time we did crap telly and cuddles," Harry murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of Nick's arm.

"Mmm, CT&C is an honoured tradition."

"I was so hungover that for a moment I thought I'd actually died and gone to heaven when you suggested spooning."

"Yeah?" Nick slips his hand in under Harry's shirt to rest on his stomach, thumbing idly at the sparse hair of his treasure trail. He vaguely remembers that day as a haze of nausea and headache. If Harry's hangover was terrible, Nick's was a near-death experience. He doesn't even remember suggesting spooning, but he does remember waking up with his face in Harry's hair feeling a lot better than he did when he passed out.

"You fell asleep." Harry traces his fingers slowly up and down the inside of Nick's arm. "And I barely moved for two hours because I was scared I'd wake you up and you'd move away." Harry's quiet for a moment, fingertips tickling Nick's skin. "Nick, I--" 

Before he can finish there's a knock on the door, followed by 4/5ths of One Direction spilling in, eyes exaggeratedly covered with their hands.

"I can't see," Louis shouts and walks straight into the wall.

Harry laughs giving Nick's arm one last kiss before he sits up. "What do you want idiots?"

"Are you decent?" Niall counters. Liam's the only one who has uncovered his eyes, probably because he could smell the lack of funny business.

"Yes." Nick can almost hear Harry roll his eyes.

"Awww, look at you," Louis says, and Nick realises Harry's change of position sort of has Nick curled up around him like a bath ring. He grudgingly sits up before anyone can take a picture.

"Come on, lads," Harry says. "What do you want?"

"Dinner," Zayn says, then he fidgets. "Uh. I mean--"

"Come and have dinner with us," Louis fills in.

"If you want." Liam elbows Louis in the side. 

"Now," says Niall.

Nick doesn't even have to look at Harry to know he wants to. "Okay," he says. Harry promptly takes his hand.

Dinner is a boisterous affair that constantly threatens to turn into a full on food fight, but it's really nice too. Food is good, conversation flows easily, mostly, and Nick doesn't feel like he's a hundred years older than the rest of them, much. It's not even Harry's doing because he starts talking golf, of all things, with Niall and Nick's left to the mercy of the other three, aided only by Harry's hand on his thigh under the table.

Zayn is quiet as he usually is, Liam is the chatty peacekeeper and Louis is wary but on his very best behaviour for Harry's sake. He only calls Nick grandpa four times and keeps the pointed jabs to a minimum.

Nick's thankful for small favours and it's not like he begrudges Louis his wariness. There's still a lot of misinformation about Alphas and Omegas out there, the idea that Alphas are able to coerce Omegas with their scent one of the most prevailing myths. Also, being in love is making Nick all soppy in the head because he likes that Harry has someone that's looking out for him even when he wants to flick Louis on the nose for being a brat.

Then it's over, 5SOS are on stage, and 1D has to get ready for the their own set, which leaves Nick to his own devices again. Lou is busy with last minute makeup, Cal has climbed up to the ceiling and all the other people Nick might know have vanished.

He pokes about backstage for a while until he comes across a table that is stacked with Sharpies and cardboard. He looks around but since there's no one around to tell him no, he grabs a Sharpie and makes himself a sign.

As far as signs go it's not very elaborate, just a piece of white cardboard with “King Harold” written on it in Nick's nicest handwriting. He draws a crown on the O and colours it in with red gems and yellow for gold. As an afterthought he makes a border of hearts and writes “1D” at the very top. It's absolutely ridiculous, but he figures Harry will get a kick out of it.

He stores it by the door that leads to his assigned watching spot and then goes to find Harry to wish him good luck. Harry's back in his dressing room with a freshly made up face and his ear buds hanging from the collar of his shirt, his phone pressed to his ear.

"Mummmm," he whines, face breaking into a smile when he spots Nick. "I've got to go, Nick's here."

Nick's stomach does a slow drop and roll. Anne. Right.

Harry rolls his eyes and then holds the phone out. "Mum wants to say hi."

Nick very, very gingerly takes the phone and lifts it to his ear. Harry just lost about one million boyfriend points. "Hiya," he squeaks. "You alright?"

Anne laughs. "Hi Nick. I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm good. A bit bruised and jetlagged still, but otherwise I'm in fine working order."

"Are you sure? If I'm to believe Harry you've been at death's door and back."

Nick laughs, the pressure in his chest easing a bit. "Yeah, he's not the most reliable source on this matter. I'm really fine."

"I'm glad," Anne says warmly. "Had me right worried when I saw those pictures and Harry was inconsolable."

Nick glances at Harry who's poking around his dresser looking for something, apparently not at all worried about the way he just threw Nick to the sharks.

"I didn't have my phone when they made me go in the ambulance and I didn't know pictures had hit the internet until I got it back and had about a gazillion missed calls. Made me feel proper popular though."

Anne laughs. "I'm really glad you're okay, Nick, and I want you to know I'm happy for you and Harry. You're good for him."

Nick swallows and dumbly feels like he might burst into tears. "Thanks, Anne," he mumbles. "It means a lot. I'm really happy too."

"Course you are," Harry says, stealing the phone out of Nick's hand. "Soz, Mum, love you. Got to go, I have songs to sing and boyfriends to snog. Call you tomorrow." 

"You can't tell your mum we're snogging," Nick hisses.

Harry lowers the phone and stick it into his pocket. "I think she knows about the kissing," he says reasonably. "She knows I'll be spending my heat with you so...."

"Oh my god," Nick says weakly. "You _told_ her about that?"

Harry rolls his eyes. "Boyfriends." He points between them. "In love." He pulls Nick in by the belt loops and goes up on his toes to kiss him. "I didn't have to tell her."

"You're still a horrid child," Nick says, but he belies the sentiment by wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and kissing him again.

Naturally that's when door flies open and Lou walks in.

"Harry," she hisses. "It's starting." 

"Oh shit." Harry darts in for one last kiss and then he's gone, sprinting out the door and down the corridor.

"Hi Lou," Nick says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

She rolls her eyes at him.

\--

The sign feels like overkill, but it's not like he isn't a jumping, clapping, cheering, dancing, singing mess anyway. Holding a sign with “King Harold” written on it in huge block letters is hardly going to be the most incriminating part of his attendance tonight. He's sure someone got vid of him and Lou absolutely losing it to Kiss You and posted it online already.

Harry's so amazing, that's the thing, the way he struts and gyrates and thrusts and _sings_ , Nick's so incredibly proud of him in a strange, soppy oh-my-god-look-at-the-love-of-my-life way. He's pretty sure Harry could be up there missing every note and walking into walls and Nick would still be cheering wildly and waving his sign about because he's soft for this boy, but he doesn't have to pretend because Harry is _brilliant_.

One Direction might not play Nick's favourite kind of music, but he loves a banger and they certainly have plenty of those. It's not only because they play them on the radio that he knows every word to What Makes You Beautiful, even if that's what he tells every person that catches him singing it in public. Their music is just so damn enjoyable. And sometimes hearing Harry's voice in a song is better than not hearing it at all.

Lou leaves before the set is finished to touch up their makeup before the encore, but Nick stays, clapping along with the rest of the fans as they beg for the band to come back, mostly because he doesn't trust himself to see Harry right now without attempting to suck his cock.

Nick attracts more attention now that there's a break in the show. He ignores them, hanging back as far as he can without losing sight of the stage. Normally he enjoys chatting to fans, but just being here is giving him heart palpitations. He doesn't want to mess up and say something incriminating.

He takes out his phone to look busy, answering a few messages and texting Matt an FYI that he's in New York, since the internet is bound to alert him sooner rather than later, if Ian hasn't already. Matt calls within seconds.

"What the fuck are you doing in New York?" he shouts by way of greeting. Rude, but to be honest Nick wouldn't be able hear him if he wasn't shouting.

"Visiting friends," Nick shouts back, reluctantly moving into a quieter corner so he won't have to broadcast the conversation to the entire arena.

"What's that noise?" Matt asks suspiciously. "Are you at a concert?"

"Maybe," Nick says vaguely. "Could be."

"You're supposed to be recuperating."

"I am. I'm vertically recuperating with some nice live music. No one said I had to stay in the country and it's not like I asked to be bunged off for three days."

Matt sighs his most put-upon sigh, so put-upon that Nick can hear it over the sound of thousands of fans screaming as One Direction's band come back on stage and pick up their instruments.

"Sorry," Nick shouts. "Got to go. It's starting again. See you Monday."

"Tell Harry I said hi," Matt says, drily amused. "Bye."

"Bye bye bye bye."

The encore is just as good as the rest of the show, maybe better. Nick is biased because encore means the show is almost over, which means Nick gets to snog Harry soon, and he's really looking forward to that. He's open for a cheeky blowjob too if Harry's up for it.

He intends to leave during the last song to artfully drape himself over the couch in Harry's dressing room, but he ends up staying for the entire thing because he can't stop staring at Harry's gorgeous, flushed, smiling face. Nick's been to other One Direction concerts, but having permission to love Harry as much as he wants definitely heightens the experience. He must remember to never bring a friend again unless he wants to be mocked _endlessly_.

Then the last note rings out, the boys runs off stage, the audience screams, claps and whistles a mad crescendo, and Nick finally shakes himself out of his Harry-induced trance and makes his way backstage. Stepping into the backstage area feels a bit like jumping into water, even after he's removed his earplugs, everything is cool and calm and quiet compared to the frantic energy outside. Except--

" _Nick_."

Nick barely has time to turn around before Harry's on him, barrelling into Nick's arms like a freight train and pressing their lips together in a hard kiss. It's a good thing there's a wall to stop their backwards stagger or Nick might've ended up with an actual concussion. Now he just ends up caught between Harry and a hard place and he can't say he minds.

He carefully puts his hands on Harry's back above the waist and tries to not let on he's being quite thoroughly snogged behind the curtain of Harry's hair in case they've attracted the attention of the backstage crew.

"Hiya," Harry says when he finally pulls back, red-mouthed and breathless, and Nick should probably say something about propriety, but Harry looks so happy and he's hard against Nick's thigh and fuck it, fuck everyone.

"We need to get back to the hotel right now," he says instead, dropping his hands to the delicious meat above Harry's hips and squeezing. "Because I have a very urgent need to suck your cock." He says the last part lowly, for Harry's ears only, and is rewarded by Harry's eyes turning instantly dark.

"Would you--" Harry licks his lips, glancing around, thankfully the don't seem to have much of audience. "In the car? If the partition was up and--"

" _Yes._ "

Harry shivers. "Okay, time to go," he squeaks, grabbing for Nick's hand. "Let's get our stuff."

\--

Harry blushes the most delightful shade of crimson asking the driver to put the partition up, especially after he mumbles his first request so badly he has to repeat himself.

"Oh god," he says when the dark screen quietly snicks into place, folding forward and burying his flaming face in his hands.

Nick pats his back looking out the window as they pull away from the building and make their way toward the gates. There’s already a cluster of fans waiting outside the fence, hoping for a glimpse, and Nick's grateful for the blacked out windows. He still lifts his hand from Harry's back as they pass through the crowd, just in case, but there are guards keeping it at bay, and no one comes close enough to try and peer inside.

Harry straightens up once their screams have died down with the distance. He's still flushed pink across the bridge of his nose and along his cheekbones. Nick leans in and gives him a kiss.

"We've got twenty minutes," he says when he pulls back, dropping a hand to Harry's thigh and squeezing. "You still up for it?"

"Yeah," Harry breathes, legs reflexively parting. "Yes please."

It's been years since Nick attempted a blow job in the back of a car. and then it hadn’t been moving. He finds the mechanics are the same, though, and the footwell in this flashy piece is well roomy. He even manages to squeeze himself down between Harry's knees with some kind of grace.

"Fuck," Harry says eloquently, touching the sides of Nick's face.

"Less than twenty minutes now," Nick says, reaching for Harry's fly.

"It's not going to take twenty minutes," Harry mumbles darkly, flush spreading down his neck again.

"Don't be embarrassed, love." Nick carefully unbuttons Harry's jeans, dragging his knuckles down the length of his trapped cock. "I love how quickly you come for me." He leans in, burying his face into the open v of Harry's fly and inhaling. He loves Harry's smell already; he can't imagine how amazing it'll be in a few weeks.

"Come on, babe." He lifts his head and tugs lightly at the waistband of Harry's jeans.

Harry obligingly lifts his hips enough for Nick to slip his jeans and pants down to his thighs, freeing his already blood-thick cock.

"Think I can get you off with no hands?" Nick asks, curling his fingers around Harry's thighs. He leans in to kiss the tip of Harry's dick before he looks up again.

"I think..." he starts, sinking his fingers into Nick's hair and licking his lips. "That you can get me off by looking at me."

It's tempting, but they're in a bit of a hurry and Nick's knees are already protesting the cramped conditions. Objectively, he realises it's probably one of the worst ideas they've ever had, worse than the time when they got spectacularly pissed on tequila rose and took turns throwing up pink bile in the wee hours of the morning, because they're in inner city traffic and the windows are blacked out but they're not _painted_ black. It's probably possible to see inside if the light is right and you really want to. _Christ_. Subjectively, he can't wait to get his mouth on Harry's cock.

Nick prides himself on being good at sucking cock. He has technique, he has finesse, he has an arsenal of tricks up his sleeve, but whenever he gets his mouth on Harry's cock he ends up getting lost in the pure sensation of sucking him. It's unfair really; Harry deserves only the best of Nick's blowjobs but he probably gets the worst on account of having a perfect dick that feels so good in Nick's mouth.

Luckily Harry doesn't seem to mind his substandard blowjobs. It's only minutes before his thighs are quivering and his dick is leaking steadily onto Nick's tongue. He's trying so hard to keep quiet, Nick can tell, but tiny whimpers escape his mouth with his harsh breaths, and it's way hotter than such a small thing has any right to be.

Nick pulls off for a second to work the ache out of his jaw and take a few much needed breaths. "God, I love sucking you," he says, licking across the exposed slit of Harry's dick. "Fucking perfect."

Harry whimpers, tightening his fingers in Nick's hair. "Are you talking to my dick?" he asks shakily.

Nick probably is, which is embarrassing. He replies by sucking Harry down again, taking him deeper with every down stroke until a bump in the road nearly has him gagging and he has to pull back a bit. It's a good reminder that they're in a moving vehicle and probably not far from their final destination. If he'd been able to reach he'd have gone for a cheeky finger but as it is he settles for alternating tight suction with tonguing the underside until Harry's thighs are tense like steel under his hands.

"Nick," Harry gasps brokenly, pulling on his hair in warning. "I'm close. I'm..."

The car’s sudden deceleration has Nick taking Harry's dick halfway down his throat and Harry comes with a choked back moan, pulling desperately at Nick's hair. Nick gags and swallows and swallows again, catching Harry's come across his tongue before he has to pull off to cough and the last spurt lands across his chin.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Harry wipes at Nick's chin with his shirt before catching his face between his hands and making him look up. Nick thinks he probably looks terribly unsexy; sweaty and come-smeared with red eyes from coughing, but Harry looks at him like he's a work of art. Sexy art. Fit naked ladies or summat. They're stopped at a red light, Nick realises; he can see cars on either sides. He hopes the people in the cars can't see them.

"Thank you," Harry says seriously, leaning down to give Nick a sweet kiss. 

"I love you," Nick replies dumbly.

Harry's smile could rival the sun. "You too," he says, kissing Nick again. "Do you need help getting up from there?"

"Please."

Getting up is a study in gracelessness that nearly causes Nick to elbow Harry in the junk, and before Nick's safely back on the seat they're both in hysterics. Then Harry climbs on top of Nick, presses his tongue into Nick's mouth and his hand against Nick's trapped erection, effectively cutting the laughter off and short circuiting Nick's brain in the process.

"We don't have time," Nick groans, arching into the maddening pressure of Harry's hand.

"I know." Harry bites at the tendons of Nick's neck, dragging his hand down the length of Nick's dick.

Nick buries his fingers into Harry's hair and stares blindly out the window. They're two streets from the hotel at most. Harry moves down, sucks a bruise against Nick's collarbone, and gently kneads Nick's dick like he's still a baker and Nick's a piece of delicate dough.

"Dough in your hands," Nick mumbles, pressing his fingers against Harry's scalp. He should protest the bruise maybe but he's covered in them anyway, at least this is one he'll carry with pride.

"You're so weird." Harry mouths the words against Nick's throat, licking at his pulse point. "God, I love your smell." He lifts his head. "Will you fuck me?"

Nick's first two attempts at replying comes out as static but then he manages: "Not here."

Harry laughs. "Later. At the hotel. Will you fuck me?"

Nick swallows. God, he wants that. He wants that more than anything. "Yeah. Yes. We can--yes."

"Good." Harry seals their mouths together, kissing Nick long and deep, and without really meaning to at all, Nick comes in his pants.

\--

The trek from the garage to Harry's hotel room has never been longer, Nick is sure. It was shorter on that first day when it was just Nick, Mike from hotel security, and Nick’s crushing fear of ruining Harry's life than it is now. Harry, of course, seems unbothered, but he doesn't have a pantsful of come to worry about.

"I love this sign," he says, leaning back against the elevator wall and studying Nick's sloppy King Harold sign. "Can't believe you made it for me."

"I can't believe you brought it," Nick responds, shifting his feet. He really hopes he's imagining the sensation of come running down the inside of his leg. It congeals pretty quickly, doesn't it?

"Are you kidding? This is coming home with me. I'm having it framed." Harry grins at him, dimples out in full force. "It's amazing."

"Eh, whatever. You're amazing," Nick mumbles. He might be blushing a bit. _Christ_. He's so ill-prepared for the grand romance life.

The lift slows to a stop and the doors ding open before Harry can responds. Nick can't say he's overjoyed about the family of four waiting outside.

"Oh god," the teenage girl of the family gasps, eyes going huge when she spots Harry.

"Hiya," Harry says amiably, already handing the sign over to Nick because he knows what comes next.

"You're Nick Grimshaw," the father of the family says, while Harry poses for pictures with the girl and her brother, because of course they're British.

"Ah, yes," Nick says.

"Love that show you did with Annie Mac. Switch was it?"

"Uh--yes. Thanks."

"Rob Howard." He sticks his hand out and Nick takes it, carefully holding the sign in front of his crotch with the other one.

"Pleased to meet you, Rob."

Nick tries for a smile to cover the fact that he's slowly losing his mind. Harry's laughing at something the mum said, big and loud with his head thrown back. He's still flushed down his throat and his hair is in wild disarray where Nick was tugging on it, and Jesus, there's come on his shirt from when he wiped Nick's face. Nick hopes it won't be visible in the pictures.

"How’s the head?" Rob asks, apparently determined to make small talk. Normally Nick would be all over that, but he's sort of busy having a breakdown. 

"It's good, yeah. Looked much worse than it was." He shifts his eyes to Rob's face because he realises he's been staring at Harry in an alarming way. "Still had to fly all the way over here to calm that one down." He jerks his head towards Harry. "Teenagers, you know. Easy to make friends with but prone to dramatics." He's babbling. He's out of control. He needs to be put out of his misery.

Rob laughs. He has a big bushy beard and dark kind eyes. He doesn't look like the kind of man that makes friends with teenagers, but there's no judgement on his face.

"A DJ and a popstar, yeah?" he says kindly, citing Nick's party line for the papers.

Harry's still talking to the mum, gesticulating wildly while the daughter stares in adoration and the son pretends he couldn't care less. Nick's blood runs cold.

"Yes," Nick says slowly. "Exactly."

Rob is an Alpha, of course he’s an Alpha; Nick can't believe he didn't scent it right away. It should have overwhelmed him the moment they stepped out of the elevator, but he was mouth-breathing  
like a loser who forgot to take an allergy pill and distracted by Harry's easy professionalism when meeting fans.

He swallows, hands going clammy around the sign. Harry's talking to the daughter now, chatting like they're old friends while she stares like he hung the moon. Nick can relate, even with the way it feels like the walls are closing in on him. Should he beg, he wonders, beg for this bearded stranger to keep their secret at least a little bit longer, or should he pretend he has no clue they reek of sex and each other, that they're just two pals, nothing to smell here.

"My brother met his mate a couple of years ago," Rob says conversationally, keeping his tone low to not be heard over the long-winded story Harry's telling.

The signs flutters between Nick's trembling hands. "Yeah?"

"Thirty-seven years and he never told anyone he was bisexual because it was easier not to be, you know? That's not the world I want my children to grow up in. I’m glad my kids will have someone to look up to."

Nick's breath sticks in his throat, heart banging. "He's nineteen," he says quietly, voice reedy. "He's not ready to be anyone's hero."

He's trembling all over now, sweating between his shoulder blades and along his hairline. If it was a knife he was holding and not a measly piece paper he's not sure he could be held accountable for his actions. He has to force his lips to stay closed over his teeth.

"Oh, no," Rob says looking honestly alarmed. "I didn't mean--it wasn't a threat." He touches Nick's shoulder but pulls his hand back when Nick shrinks away. "I just meant in the future. If you wanted to."

He looks so honestly upset that Nick nods jerkily and forces a smile. "Thank you," he says stiffly.

Harry's story, whatever it was, finally ends to a choir of laughter--even the son joins in--and Harry hikes his bag further up his shoulder with a pleased look on his face. "Thanks for the chat," he says, as if they were the ones doing him a favour. "I shouldn't keep you any longer."

They protest of course, but Harry’s smooth, and soon their positions are reversed, Rob and his family stepping into the elevator and Nick and Harry staying outside. Rob still looks troubled and before the door slip shut he catches Nick's eyes and says: "I won't tell. I promise."

Nick realises he's moved so that he's in front of Harry, subconsciously shielding him, and he manages another smile, realer this time, and nods. "Thank you."

"What was that about?" Harry asks. He still sounds like he doesn't have a care in the world while Nick's all tied up into knots inside.

"Not here," Nick says, turning around and motioning for Harry to get moving. He's done with indiscretions in public;he really just needs to breathe for a moment. Panic is still clawing its way up his spine and clutching at his chest. That was too fucking close.

Harry fumbles getting the door open three times, casting worried glances at Nick, but then they're finally inside and the door is slipping shut behind them. It doesn't make it any easier to breathe.

The room’s been cleaned in their absence, the bed neatly made and the dishes gone from the table. All traces of their lazy day in bed have been washed away, and somehow that makes it worse.

"What happened?" Harry asks, dropping the bag at the foot of the bed.

"He was an Alpha," Nick says, folding forward and pressing his palms against his knees. Shit, he really can't breathe, head swimming with panic. "He figured it out."

"Oh," Harry looks taken aback. "I didn't even..." He sniffs at Nick's shoulder, where Rob touched him, and makes a surprised noise. "Wow, I didn't smell him at all."

 _Fuck_. Nick struggles for breath, air pipes whistling and chest tightening. He needs to calm down. He just needs a couple of good breaths, but it's so hard to focus over the panicked hammering of his heart.

"Fuck, Nick," Harry says, grabbing Nick's face and making him look up. "Are you having an asthma attack? Where's your inhaler?" He pats Nick down frantically, hands trembling. "Jesus, Nick, where is it?"

"Bag," Nick manages between wheezing whistling breaths. "Your bag."

Harry dumps the contents out over the bed, rifling through them. "It's not here," he says, voice turning reedy. "Should I call an ambulance?"

"Outer... pocket." Nick's head is spinning. He should help Harry probably; he's trembling head to foot, hands shaking so badly he barely gets the zipper open, but moving feels like a terrible idea.

Then finally Harry finds the inhaler, pressing it against Nick's mouth with trembling hands. "Inhale," he orders, thumb on the dispenser. "And again."

Magical cortisone. Finally Nick can breathe. The immediate panic recedes as the vice-like grip on his air pipe eases, and he straightens up, thumping his head back against the wall. "Thank you," he croaks.

"Don't speak," Harry orders, touching his face and throat gently, still shaking. "You need your air."

Nick wants to laugh, but he focuses on slowing his heart rate with sure, even breaths while Harry holds onto the edge of his shirt and breathes with him. Nick really just needs a moment to think, to collect himself. 

"I need a shower," he says.

"I'll join you," Harry says, dropping Nick's shirt and reaching for the hem of his own.

Nick swallows. "I could really use a moment alone."

"Oh. Okay." Harry's face falls with his hands. "I'll just--" He makes a vague gesture and trails off. "Wait, then."

Nick wants to take it back immediately. He wants to roll over and bare his throat and beg for forgiveness, but he really does need to be alone, so instead he just says, "Okay."

"Nick," Harry says lowly when Nick steps into the bathroom and reaches for the door.

"Yeah?"

"Please don't lock the door."

Nick's heart clenches painfully. "I won't," he promises.

\--

Nick turns the water on in the shower and slowly undresses until he's standing naked before the mirrors. There's a new bruise blooming on his collarbone where Harry marked him, but most of the others are turning yellow and green at the edges, slowly fading. Only the one on his hip still glows as dark as ever and the colour has run down over his arse cheek in an abstract purplish pattern.

It feels like he's lived a whole life since Tuesday, like the bruises should be long gone and the stitches a faded scar. He touches his fingers to his mouth, still reddened and swollen from sucking Harry off in the car, and it's honestly enough to make his dick twitch with renewed interest.

"What are you doing to me, Harry Styles?" he mumbles, letting his fingers drop and flexing his hands at his sides.

Nick used to think he knew a thing or two about love but this is so far beyond his realm of experience that he should be terrified, the way he's always been scared of feeling too much, but he's not. He's not scared at all. He just wants _more_. 

The door opens a fraction, letting in a gust of cool air, and Harry peers inside, eyes trained on the shower. He startles, looking horrified, when he realises Nick isn't in it, and shuts the door with a quickly mumbled apology and god, Nick is such a _dick_. He just gave Harry his second scare in a week and then he shuts himself in the bathroom because he wants to _think_? Harry has awful taste in boyfriends.

"You have awful taste in boyfriends," Nick says as he flings the door open. It falls horridly flat when he realises he made Harry cry. _Again_.

Harry's sitting on the edge of the bed with his toes curled against the carpet and his arms wrapped tightly around himself. He's still holding the inhaler, knuckles gone white with the fierceness of his grip. He looks up at Nick's abrupt entrance with red rimmed wet eyes and blotchy cheeks, looking tiny and embarrassed, as if he's the one at fault.

"I'm sorry." Nick crosses the floor to kneel at Harry's feet. "Shhhh, babe. I'm such a dick."

There's something immensely satisfying about the way Harry pours onto the floor and into his arms, pressing his wet face into Nick's neck and wrapping his arms tight around Nick's chest.

"You're allowed to want alone time," Harry says miserably. "I just wasn't done being scared."

Nick hugs him tightly and presses a kiss into his hair even though it's tacky with styling products and dried sweat. "I'm okay. I promise."

"I know," Harry mumbles. "It was just--you couldn't breathe and you were upset that Alpha knew about us and--" Harry's breath hitches. "I just--"

"You just what, love?" Nick prods when nothing seems to be forthcoming but Harry's shaky breaths.

Harry shakes his head. "It's stupid."

Nick pulls back, making Harry look up by gently cupping his chin. Harry's eyes has probably never been greener, or more beautiful, enhanced somehow by his wet lashes and the red rims. "You can tell me even if it's stupid."

Harry flushes across the bridge of his nose, eyes dropping to the floor. "I just want you to be proud I'm yours."

Nick's heart thumps hard against his ribcage. "I am. I'm so proud of you, love." He presses a kiss to Harry's lips, staying close to rest their foreheads together, slipping his hand down to curl around the back of Harry's neck. "And I'd shout it from the rooftops if I could. I just want it to be our decision."

Harry nods fractionally.

"I don't want it to come out because we were careless and got caught red-handed. I want it to be something we took time to consider and get right."

"What if we don't get to make that choice?"

It's possible, maybe even probable. Media can't report on imprints or scents, according to the Privacy Regulations Act of 1988, but social media sort of changed all that, and any story that spreads wide enough is fair game. This particular story is probably explosive enough for media outlets to think both once and twice before printing a rumour, but it’s also probably a lucrative one. Either they're going to have to be really careful about who they get close to when they're together, or they're going to have to accept the risk of exposure.

"We'll do what the PR people recommended: lay low, ride it out, and not make a statement until we're sure what we want to say."

"But what if I ruin your career," Harry says miserably, clutching at Nick. 

"I'll land on my feet, love. I'm already out." Nick pauses, rubbing his thumb in a slow circle against the back of Harry's neck. "And I already have a statement for my rep. Want to hear it?"

"Okay." 

"It's very to the point: Back off, he's mine, mine, mine, mine, mine."

Harry giggles. "You sound like one of the seagulls from Finding Nemo."

Nick resolutely doesn't think about how that was one of Harry's actual childhood movies and not something he secretly enjoyed while babysitting. "Mine mine mine mine mine mine," he says while brushing his lips down the bridge of Harry's nose until he finds his mouth for a kiss. "Mine." Saying it feels way too good, even if it's in a silly seagull voice.

Harry pulls back sliding his hands up to curl against Nick's shoulders. He looks unfairly gorgeous with his messy hair and bloodshot eyes. "Say it proper."

"Say what proper?" Nick reaches up to brush Harry's hair away from his face, pretending he doesn't know. "Did I ever tell you your eyebrows are amazing?" He smoothes his thumb along the arch of one, his path waylaid by Harry's pouty frown.

"You know what."

Nick licks his lips, stomach tightening with helpless want. "Mine." It's embarrassing how breathlessly turned out he sounds all of a sudden. He just wants to devour Harry, push him down on the floor and claim him properly until he forgets he's ever had anyone else.

Harry licks his lips, leaning in until his lips brush the shell of Nick's ear. " _Yours._ "

It tickles and makes him shiver and doesn't quench his desire to claim Harry in the slightest. He wants to shout it from the rooftops, write it in smoke across the sky, and take out an ad in the Daily Mail, but he settles for pulling Harry into a hard hug. "Come on, love," he says when he pulls back. "Let's hit the shower."

Harry has this way of smiling that turns his eyes into happy half crescents, it's Nick's favourite thing in the entire world--

"And then you'll fuck me." 

Except that maybe.

\--

They keep the shower brief, partly because it's already late but mostly because Nick had left the shower running and the build-up of steam makes the bathroom feel like a sauna.

"I think I'm sweating," Harry says, running a towel sloppily over his chest. "Aren't showers supposed to cool you down?"

He has a point. Heat prickles along Nick's hairline and at the back of his knees, the post shower chill refusing to set in. It might just be the company, though; naked and wet is _such_ a good look for Harry, Nick can't tear his eyes away.

"Hurry _up_ ," Harry whines, abandoning his sloppy drying procedure and dropping the towel on the floor. "You're still dripping."

"Right." Nick dabs the towel over his chest and down his stomach, still looking at the flushed, damp marvel that is Harry's body. He wants to put his mouth all over it.

"We don't have time for this, Nicholas." Harry pulls the towel from Nick's unresisting fingers and towels him down quickly. 

"Are we in a hurry?" Nick asks, turning around obligingly to let Harry dry his back.

"Yessss." Harry runs the towel perfunctory down Nick's back ending at his arse. "Okay, done now. Come on--no, wait." Harry ducks around Nick to grab one of the hand towels and run it under the tap. The mirror is so fogged up Nick can't see his face but for some reason he imagines Harry's look is one of great determination.

Harry turns the tap off and carefully squeezes most of the water out of the towel before he turns around again with the towel still in his hand, looking determined.

"Now come on," he says.

"What's the towel for?"

Harry opens the bathroom door letting in a gust of cold air. "Clean up." He looks at Nick over his shoulder. "We're _not_ showering again."

In Nick's opinion showering with Harry is pretty great, even in a certified steam room, but cuddling out the afterglow is also great, and doing it while not sticky and disgusting would be even better. Harry is a fountain of good ideas tonight. 

The bed is still a mess from Harry dumping his bag out earlier and Harry drops the damp towel on the nightstand before he starts picking up the mess. Nick leans against the wall and stares at his arse. He has such a great arse, Harry; Nick really hasn't spent nearly enough time appreciating it. 

"Your inhaler is still in the bathroom," Harry says. "Put it on the nightstand."

Nick's mouth twitches, but he obligingly follows the instructions. He returns to a smattering of decorative pillows and the bedspread thrown on the floor and Harry spread out on white sheets.

"That was quick," he remarks, putting the inhaler down beside the towel. It occurs to him that he should probably get his phone and charge it, but it just doesn't seem important.

"I think I've waited long enough." Harry holds his hands out. "Now come here." 

It's not exactly a hardship for Nick to take him up on the invitation, crawling onto the bed and into his arms, pressing their mouths together in a soft kiss. Harry's already hard, freak of nature that he is, dick pressing against Nick's hip, but he seems content to just kiss for a while, tangling one hand into Nick's damp hair and sliding the other down to cup Nick's arse.

When Nick pulls back to catch his breath Harry smiles up at him and reaches out to push Nick's damp quiff off his forehead.

"You sound a bit breathless still. Are you okay?" Harry's grin cuts dimples deep into his cheeks and Nick leans in to poke one of them with the tip tongue.

"Horrid child," he says. He doesn't mean it.

"Your horrid child now." Harry sounds smug about it, like being Nick's is an accomplishment.

Nick kisses his awful smiling mouth and then pulls back again. "Do you want to call me daddy. Is that what you're saying?" He arches his eyebrows.

Harry giggles and flushes and doesn't quite meet Nick's eyes. "Don't be silly."

"I'm never silly. Most serious man on the planet, me."

"Well, I don't want to call you ‘daddy.’" The flush lingers, though, painting Harry's cheeks bright red.

"You sure?" Nick touches his lips to Harry's heated skin. He's not particularly into the whole daddy thing, but Harry could call him whatever he wanted and Nick would most likely enjoy it.

"It's not that," Harry mumbles. "Just like it when you take care of me." He reaches up to push Nick's hair away from his face, touching the edge of the plaster gently. "And when you let me take care of you."

"Taking care of your big strong Alpha man when he comes home from work all tired and worn out?" Nick kisses the corner of Harry's mouth. "Cooking his meal. Cleaning his clothes. Spreading your legs like a good boy for his knot?"

"Yeah." Harry sounds so breathlessly excited Nick has to pull back to look at him again. "I want that," Harry says defiantly, blush spreading down his neck. "I want to make sure you're eating proper and taking your vitamins and getting enough water." He looks thoughtful. "You can do both our laundry though. I'm shit at it."

Nick laughs, shifting so that he can cup Harry's face between his hands. "Darling boy," he says because it's the first thing that comes to mind. He's naked in bed with a fit popstar, but somehow he's turning into his nana.

Harry smiles like the sun. He always was a bit soft for grannies.

"You cook, I do laundry, and we clean together," Nick suggests.

Harry nods eagerly. "And then I spread my legs for your knot like a good boy."

Nick leads a charmed life. "As long as you occasionally let me spread my legs, that sounds like a good arrangement."

"God, yeah." Harry's eyes darken. "We can do it any way." He rubs up against Nick's hip, leaving a wet smear in his wake. "All the ways." He wraps his arms around Nick's neck, pulling him down. "All the time."

"Curse your awful youthful stamina," Nick mumbles against Harry's lips before giving into the kiss Harry's offering. "This old man can't keep up with you."

"I think you've been keeping up just fine so far."

Not really, Nick reckons, but it's nice of Harry to think so. "I do my best," he says demurely, pressing another kiss to Harry's mouth and then one to his darling cheek, the skin still hot against his mouth. He moves down, trailing kisses from Harry's jaw to his collarbone, while his hands slip down Harry's sides.

"Do you want the lube and stuff?" Harry asks breathlessly when Nick licks across the butterfly tattooed on his sternum.

"Mhmmm," Nick agrees, dragging his lips down to Harry's stomach. It quivers enticingly against his mouth and Harry shifts easily to spread his legs. Got to love a limber popstar.

"Just let me..." Harry's stomach quakes as he reaches out for the nightstand and Nick pulls back to enjoy the way his muscles pull and stretch, trailing his fingers over the bumps of Harry's abs. It should make him self-conscious about how the only bumps on his stomach are rolls but--

"You like my stomach, yeah?" he asks, pressing a kiss to Harry's belly button.

"Love it," Harry answers promptly, dropping the lube and a string of condoms on the bed by his hip. "Best stomach. Come here and let me kiss it."

He makes grabby hands, pulling at Nick's shoulder and Nick goes, because why not? He quite enjoys the sight and feel and everything of Harry's face against his stomach.

"I really do love your stomach," Harry says sincerely, looking up at Nick with his chin against Nick's skin, it makes Nick's dick poke at his throat but he doesn't even shift to acknowledge it. Nick bites back a moan. "It's lovely."

Harry gives the skin above Nick's belly button a very serious kiss, complete with a poke of tongue, because he is ridiculous and amazing and Nick loves him _so much_. Then he shifts down and licks across the head of Nick's cock, sending a thrill of startled pleasure up Nick's spine.

"Mmm." Harry's eyelids flutter. "I really need you to fuck me now." He sounds wrecked and when he looks up his eyes are huge and dark. "You taste so..." He hums and gives Nick's dick another delicate  
lick, like he's sampling it. It should look ridiculous but it's Nick's dick against Harry's mouth and it's really not ridiculous at all. Harry lifts a hand to the base of Nick's dick, toying with the extra skin there and earns himself another dribble of precome.

"Fuck," Nick manages, hips twitching into Harry's grip, always so easy for his touch.

Harry fumbles about the bed, grabbing the bottle of lube and thrusting into Nick's hand. "Now."

Nick laughs. "Idiot." Fondness drips of his vowels, the affection impossible to hide even if he wanted to. 

"King," Harry corrects, smirking. 

"Very needy for a king," Nick says, moving back down Harry's body. "Aren't they supposed to be calm and collected?"

Harry looks like he's actually considering this, even has he spreads his legs for Nick's roaming hands. "Probably not in the bedroom."

Nick laughs and kisses the inside of Harry's thigh, sliding his fingers down between Harry's cheeks to rub over his opening. It's enough to make Harry gasp and pull his legs up further. " _Please_."

It's heady to be wanted like this outside of a heat. It's not something Nick has had much experience with. He's had some great sex in his life, but it's never been like this, not even close. 

"I got you, love," Nick murmurs, popping the cap on the bottle and pouring lube over his fingers. He can't wait for Harry to drip for him, but he's grateful he gets to have this too. It's probably the Alpha in him, but there's a deep satisfaction to be found in the knowledge that no one else will ever have this. Even if Harry moves on to a better Alpha at some point in the future this, Harry's first time -- likely his only time as scentless -- is Nick's.

"I probably don't deserve you at all," Nick confesses, rubbing slick into the delicately folded skin around Harry's opening. "I'm having terrible possessive thoughts right now."

"I hope they're about how you're going to be the first to put your fingers in me _right this very second_ or I will be very cross with you."

Well, Nick wouldn't want that. He tests the resistance with the tip of a finger delighting in how easily Harry opens up for him, enough that he dares to start out with two, sliding them into Harry's body as slowly as he can manage.

"Holy fuck," Harry exclaims, back arching and hands fisting into the covers. " _More_."

Nick gives him more, sinking his fingers into him over and over, adding more lube until it's dripping from his knuckles because in the future Harry will be plenty wet when he does this and Nick doesn't want to hurt him. He takes care to begin with to not brush up against Harry's prostate, because his Omega glands already make him extra sensitive and Harry a death grip on the sheets already.

Nick wants to lick at Harry's cock because it's right there, hard and flushed, leaking precome onto his trembling stomach, but Nick's pretty sure that any contact beyond the slow glide of his fingers would set Harry off right now.

"You okay, love?" Nick kisses the inside of Harry's quivering thigh.

"Yeah," Harry manages, breath hitching. "Feels so good."

Nick pulls out, adds more lube, and goes back with three, harder now that he's sure Harry can take it.

"Fuck!" Harry arches up so violently he nearly dislocates Nick's fingers, dick dribbling precome onto his stomach.

"Easy, love," Nick chides, using his free hand to pin Harry's hips to bed. "You'll hurt yourself."

Harry whines, writhing against the sheets. He's so tense it feels as if he's made of solid steel under Nick's palm.

"You're going to come, aren't you?" Nick asks fondly, watching the way Harry clutches at the sheets, his breath coming out in short jerky puffs. He's flushed down to his chest, skin damp and glowing golden in the soft light from the bedside lamp. It's the kind of sight Nick would like to etch onto his retinas forever.

"Nooo."

It's the most unconvincing lie Nick's ever heard. "You sure?" He twists his fingers, finally nudging up against Harry's prostate, and is rewarded by Harry letting out a sound like he's been punched, struggling against Nick's hold of his hip.

"Again," he demands breathlessly.

Nick gives him it again and again and again until Harry comes all over himself with a drawn out slur of Nick's name, pulling the sheets loose from the mattress in the process.

"Holy fuck." Harry blinks owlishly at Nick. "That felt...." He blinks some more, finally relaxing his grip of the messed up sheets and flexing his fingers. "I think I would really like for you to fuck me now."

Nick's dick jerks in agreement, shamelessly dripping precome onto to the sheets. "You sure?" he asks, trying a light thrust of his fingers. "Not too sensitive?"

Harry moans, arching lustfully. "'M perfect. Just need you."

Nick can't say no to that, or to the uncoordinated grabby hands Harry makes in his direction, as he tries to reach Nick without moving from his current location of melted into the mattress.

"Really need you," he amends breathlessly when Nick gently slides his fingers out. "Now."

He's still hard, that's the thing, cock drooling onto his stomach as if he didn't come at all. It happens during heat sometimes, but Nick's never seen it out of one before.

"Got you, love," Nick promises, tearing off a condom with desire-clumsy fingers and fumbling it open. Rolling it down over his dick and making sure it fits snugly around the base is a lesson in self-restraint, as is slicking himself up with lube. 

He grabs a free pillow and nudges at Harry's hip. "Lift up, love." It takes a moment for Harry to parse the instruction, but he manages to get his feet under him so that Nick can slide the pillow in under his arse. It also gets him into range of Harry's grabby hands, and he lets himself be tugged into a breathless kiss, bracing himself over Harry. 

"Didn't know you could need like this," Harry mumbles, slipping his arms and legs around Nick's body, making both of them groan because of how it makes Nick's dick snug up against his balls. "Want you inside."

Nick wants that too, so he leans back a little, getting a hand in between them to grab his cock. It only takes a minimal adjustment for his dick to snub against Harry's opening, and then he's slipping inside, as if he's sinking his dick into half-melted butter.

"Oh god," Harry gasps, eyelids fluttering. "Keep going."

He's clutches at Nick with everything he has, arms and legs and arse, pulling Nick in, and it's so good, hot and tight and so, so perfect. Nick keeps going until he bottoms out, holding himself still, completely surrounded by Harry. They're both breathing hard, as if they’dsprinted a mile.

"Didn't know it would feel like this." Harry sounds as if he's under water almost, dreamy and floating. He's smiling up at Nick with far-away eyes like Nick's taken him to a whole other universe. "I'm so full." He smiles a little wider, touching Nick's face. "So perfect."

Nick doesn't know if Harry's talking about his face or his dick or the general feeling, but he supposes it doesn't matter. It's perfect to him too, all of it, Harry, his face, this moment, the way they fit. He never wants to do this with anyone else ever again. There would be no point.

They start moving in tandem, pulling back only to come together again. Nick can hardly breathe. Sweat pools between his shoulder blades and drips from his brow, adding dampness to Harry's already sweat-darkened hair, but Harry doesn't seem to notice, staring up at him with wide-eyed wonder. 

He starts out with slow, rolling thrusts,, wanting Harry to get used to the sensation, but the urgency builds fast, pleasure coiling at the base of Nick's spine, in his thighs and the pit of his stomach, speeding up his thrusts.

"Like that," Harry gasps, reaching down to clutch at Nick's hip when Nick gets him just right. "Don't stop."

Nick doesn't think he could even if the ceiling came down around them, his entire world narrowed down to the tight clutch of Harry's body and the green depths of Harry's eyes. It's weird to maintain eye contact while fucking, or so Nick always thought, but he can't look away, doesn't even want to.

Harry bites down on his lower lip, arching up. "I'm so close," he breathes. "Fuck, it feels so good."

"Do you want my hand?" Nick can barely form words, he's breathing so hard.

"No, I can--" He groans, arching up again. "I want to...like this."

Nick nods, trying to keep his rhythm deep and hard and steady, not giving into the frantic rutting his dick wants. Harry deserves to come from a proper dicking when he's so gorgeous and hot and tight and lovely. He should have the best of everything. 

"Oh, fuck." Harry sounds completely wrecked. "Keep--just like--" He's tensing up, body arching, and Nick struggles to keep the rhythm. Harry whines, writhing against the sheets, breaking eye contact for the first time to bare his throat. He lets go of Nick to grab at the sheets again, and Nick pulls back to give it to him harder, slipping his hands down to Harry's hips and lifting him into the next thrust.

"Holy fuck." Harry digs his heels into Nick's back and frees one hand to find Nick's arm, clutching it hard. "Nick!" Harry's shout as he comes can probably be heard on the next street over. He moans and shakes and slicks his own torso all the way to his chin, coming in long deep shivering pulses. Nick thinks he might faint from how good it feels, and Nick is so close, so, so close. He can feel his orgasm building at the base of his spine and it feels massive. He pulls out at the very last instant, gets the condom off and a hand on his dick, coming all over Harry's cock and belly and heaving chest, dick swelling up at the base in a proper, if small, knot.

"Oh my god...is that--?" Harry scrambles up and gets his hands around Nick's knot, holding it tight between his palms.

"Fuck," Nick groans. He's just never going to stop coming, dick still hard and leaking over their hands. Harry's a fucking natural, squeezing Nick's knot just right, while Nick works his hand over the head.

"It's clear," Harry mumbles, staring at the fluid now dripping from Nick's slit.

Nick knows they covered this in biology: the fluid Nick's dripping now is the same kind of slick that Harry will produce once he's had his first heat, meant to ease the way for the knot in the case of an early separation. It's the purest essence of Nick's scent, and he's not surprised at all when Harry leans forward to lick at him, or the groan he lets out when he does.

When Harry looks up again his eyes are blown black. It's the single most erotic sight of Nick's life. Nick's dick is clutched in both their hands and held against Harry's stretched out tongue. He spurts one last weak dribble of not-quite come and Harry laps it up eagerly, making Nick's brain short-circuit.

His brain’s still not quite back as he pushes Harry back against the bed and gets his mouth on Harry's cock and two fingers in his arse, but he doesn't need higher brain function to get Harry off. All it takes is a few clumsy sucks and the steady pressure of his fingers against Harry's prostate for Harry to come again, nearly dry this time. He's crying when Nick crawls up his body to kiss him, but they're good tears, Nick thinks, the overwhelmed kind. Nick feels as if he's been liquefied with contentment. He’d forgotten how good it feels to knot.

"You okay, love?" Nick asks, stroking Harry's hair away from his face and kissing his still gasping mouth.

"Yeah." Harry's voice is shot to hell. Nick's glad he doesn't have to sing tomorrow. "I feel amazing." He drags the words out, all sleepy, slow, and lovely, and Nick has to kiss him again.

"Not too sore?" He asks when he pulls back.

Harry rolls his head against the pillows, smiling dreamily. "You knotted," he says, lifting his hands to trace the lines of Nick's face. "Have you ever outside a heat before?"

Nick shakes his head.

"Good." The possessive satisfaction is Harry's voice probably shouldn't make Nick feel all glowy inside, but it does.

They're both absolutely filthy, covered in sweat, come, and lube, but post-shag Harry is gorgeous and smiling and Nick can't stop kissing him.

"I think we might need to shower again," Harry says sadly when they pull apart to breathe and Nick's chest hair sticks to Harry's come smeared chest.

"Yeah," Nick agrees. Harry is a proper mess, there's even come on the underside of his chin, and it's rubbed off on Nick by now."I should probably stop coming on you."

"Better that than the sheets." Harry grins. "And I like it." 

Nick kisses him again. "I've noticed. Now, come on, let's shower."

Harry lets out a put-upon sigh, only slightly ruined by the fact that he's still smiling. " _Fine_."

\--

Nick wakes up at 6am the next morning because the gods are cruel and jetlag lasts forever apparently. Harry is still asleep, sprawled half across the bed, one leg across both of Nick's and his face against Nick's shoulder. Nick pets his hair for a bit, debating the merits of getting up. He probably could sleep a bit longer, but he really needs a wee and he's sort of fearfully curious how far the news of his New York vacation has spread overnight.

His bladder wins out and after one last stroke of Harry's unruly curls, he wriggles out from under Harry's leg and heads into the bathroom. After pissing for what feels like a hundred years, he takes his time washing and brushing his teeth. He shaves too, mindful of giving Harry stubble-burn, and puts his contacts in. He doesn't bother trying to tame his hair. He'll probably be showering again before the mornings over.

When he digs out his phone from Harry’s bag, it's clinging to its last percentage of battery. He gets the charger from the nightstand and settles down in the armchair by the window. His messages are predictably a mess and his inbox is overflowing with email. Emma, his publicist, who was thankfully briefed by Lena after the big meeting, has already sent several emails with article links and commentary.

He doesn't bother to read to them. There'll be plenty of time for that next week and he can already guess what they'll say because it'll be the same things they always say. Lots of talk about their respective statuses and the age difference with a side of innuendo, and, depending on how sympathetic the publication in question is to Nick, some snide commentary about Nick's circle of celebrity friends.

He does open an email he’s gotten from Aimeewith the subject line: My new favourite picture of you. It's a picture from the concert, of course, where he's staring up at the stage with the sign held loosely between both his hands. The look on his face is quite something indeed.  
He saves it onto his phone and opens up instagram. It's a moment's work to trim it into a square and slap a filter on it. Only the edge of the sign makes it into the cropped picture but it doesn't matte; the look on his face is far more damning.

He captions it: _That awkward moment when you're caught at a One Direction concert looking like you got a front row seat to the second coming of Christ_. He adds a couple of laughing emojis, links it to twitter, and hits post. He waits until it's finished uploading before he locks his phone, puts it down on Harry's nightstand, and crawls back into bed, wrapping himself around Harry's prone body. The world can wait another few hours.

When he wakes up their positions have been reversed and Harry is stretched out over him, watching him from very close range, smiling manically.

"I regrammed your picture," he says instead of something sane like good morning. "40,000 comments so far and about 30,000 of those are asking if we're fucking." He pokes at his phone that's apparently resting in the hollow of Nick's throat. "45,000 now. 'I hope he knots you like the little bitch you are.' That's a nice one."

"Oookay." Nick fumbles at his throat until he finds the phone and puts it aside. Then he reaches up to cup Harry's face, pulling him down into a kiss. "Hi," he says. "Good morning. You are perfect. I love you." He punctuates each statement with a kiss. "Don't read the stupid trash the internet has to say."

"Some people are nice."

"Not nearly enough of them." Nick gives Harry another kiss. "What time is it?"

"Eight."

"And you ordered breakfast for nine?"

"Uh huh." Harry's still grinning but it's lost the manic tint. He looks all soft and lovely instead, the kind of look that makes Nick's chest expand until it feels like it could swallow the entire universe. 

"A whole hour to kill. Any ideas?"

"Mmm, I don't know. Kiss me again and I'll think about it."

Nick does.

\--

"I want to do something today," Harry says over breakfast, a handjob, a shower and a lot of snogging later. "Like, outside."

Harry rubs his foot against Nick's ankle as if that'll convince him. "You sure that's a good idea? You tend to attract attention."

Harry shrugs. "Just thought it'd be nice." He turns to look longingly out the window. It's overcast and the pavement is wet as if it just stopped raining, not the best weather for sightseeing, but Nick would be lying if he didn't admit that the thought of going outside is absolutely thrilling. He's barely breathed fresh air since he landed.

"I guess we could go out for bit," Nick allows. " _If_ we bring Brian. You're not getting trampled on my watch."

"Yay," Harry says seriously, already reaching for his phone. "You're the best."

It turns out that one of the crew members had told Harry about this artisan market in Brooklyn that he wants to see, so after breakfast they put on their most inconspicuous clothes, tug beanies down over their hair, and pack into a van with Brian, their chaperone for the day. Harry clings to Nick's hand between their thighs the entire way there and if Brian notices, or cares, he kindly doesn't acknowledge it, spending most of the car journey bent over his phone.

"You sure about this?" Nick asks, as the van pulls up outside the market area, gazing out at the crowded market grounds.

"It'll be fun." Harry squeezes his fingers. "It's just people."

"That's the problem," Nick mutters, but predictably Harry ignores him completely and is already reaching for the door. He doesn't know why he's so apprehensive about this when they go out in London all the time. Harry is much likelier to be spotted there, where you can find his face in every other shop window, than he is at a random artisan market in New York. Unfamiliar territory, maybe. In London, at least, he can call for backup.

It is nice to be out in the fresh air, though, even if the sky is still steely grey and heavy with the promise of rain, and after fifteen minutes of Harry not being mobbed, Nick even starts to relax enough to look at the stalls.

He buys fancy jam at one stall and a lovely silver bracelet at another for Emily, who has a birthday soon. Then he helps Harry pick out necklaces for Anne and Gemma and a teddy bear for Lux, and then helps Brian picks out a mug for his girlfriend. They eat tacos standing shoulder to shoulder at a rickety high table and wash them down with homebrewed beer from a small corner stall run by a man with the most impressive beard Nick has ever seen.

"I should get a beard," he says as they move further in among the stalls with Brian trailing behind them. "I imagine it'd make me look distinguished."

"No," Harry says.

Nick really hopes he imagines Brian's snigger. "I'd look great in a beard," he protests even though he can't actually picture it. "Manly."

"You look manly now. Don't need a beard, babe." Harry pats his arm. "Oooh, look. Candyfloss."

He takes off down the path towards the stall and Nick's just about to follow him when he accidentally makes eye contact with a saleswoman who reminds him so much of Mairead he does a double take.

She smiles at him. "Come have a look," she says, gesturing at her table. "Crystals are for everyone."

Nick glances over to Harry, who's already in line for candyfloss, with Brian on his heels before he steps closer. She doesn't look as much like Mairead up close, but the resemblance is still striking, right down to the kind way she smiles.

Her stall is mostly crystals and rocks in various shapes and forms that look fascinating but don’t really mean anything to Nick, whose knowledge about crystals begins and ends with rose quartz. They're pretty, though, and his eyes are drawn to a pair of silver necklaces with matching dark crystal pendants.

"Lovely, aren't they?" Not!Mairead says. "It's beauvix."

"Beauvix?" Nick asks, touching a finger to one of the stones. It feels warm to the touch despite the slight chill to the air and the swirling pattern of the rock almost makes it look as if there's smoke trapped inside of it. It's beautiful.

"Bond stone. It's pretty rare these days, but it used to be a common gift in certain cultures for an Alpha to give their intended Omega. You always cut two pendants from the same stone and it's said that if the match is true the lighter swirls will glow in the dark when they're worn together under the light of a full moon, which is why they're usually sold in pairs."

Nick glances at Harry again but he's still queuing to have his teeth rotted and doesn't seem to be missing him. "I'll take them."

Not!Mairead wraps the necklaces while Nick gets the money out, taping one of her business cards to the package once she's done. "Drop me a note if they do glow. I've always wondered."

Nick hands the money over and takes the package she offers him with a smile. "I will. Have a good day."

She inclines her head. "And the same to you."

He pockets the package and tries to not think too hard about the ridiculous amount of money he just paid for a couple of pretty crystals and a myth. He's turning sentimental in his old age.

"Did you get something nice?" Harry asks when he catches up, handing over a gigantic cone of cotton candy that Nick certainly didn't ask for.

"Crystal veneers to use when all my teeth fall out."

Harry giggles. "Shut up, it's romantic."

Nick's not sure what's so romantic about cavities, but Harry's grin when he gamely bites into his helping of sugary fluff makes his insides flutter, so it might be working.

"Delicious," Harry exclaims, pulling a strip of fluff off his own cone and folding it into his mouth. "Mmmm."

Candyfloss, Nick soon realises, doubles as advanced foreplay. Harry smacks and grins and licks his sticky lips until they're red and shiny and Nick cannot stop staring at his mouth. Every time he pokes his tongue out Nick wants to suck on it, and his fingers are itching to touch his mouth.

"Do I have something on my face?" Harry asks when he catches Nick staring. The cotton candy is finally gone, but his mouth is still red and sticky-slick. Nick wants to lick it.

"Er, no. It's just your face." Nick flaps a hand vaguely in Harry's direction and his cheeks suddenly feel warm, mostly because he doesn't miss the very bemused look Brian gives them.

"You're all flushed." Harry's forehead folds neatly. "Do you feel okay? Fever can be a sign of infection you know."

Harry's so surprised by Brian's sudden cackle that he jumps and that's where Nick loses it too, pressing a hand over his mouth in an attempt to temper the guffaws.

"What? What did I say?" Harry looks bewildered, bless his innocent soul, looking around him as if a random passerby will offer a clue.

"Sorry, sorry," Brian says, trying to regain his composure. "It's just--"

Nick catches his eye and they both lose it again while Harry pouts at them. "You're the worst," he says, pointing a finger at Nick. "Always laughing at me."

"It's with you," Nick gasps. "Or at me. I don't know."

Harry huffs indignantly and starts walking again, leaving Nick and Brian scrambling.

"I'll tell you later," Nick promises when he catches up, bumping their shoulders together lightly.

"You better."

Nick doesn't think Harry's mad for real, but he stays for so long at a stand selling golf things Nick's eyes start to glaze over. What's so fascinating about golf anyway?

"Should I buy you something as a penance?" Nick asks when he thinks they're finally done but Harry just picks up a new boring thing for study. "Because I already got you a present."

Harry puts down the novelty club cover he'd been looking at. "You got me a present? When? At the crystal stand? Is it a crystal?"

Nick laughs, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie to keep from reaching out to touch Harry's beaming face. "Not much of a gift if I tell you what it is."

"It'll still be a gift," Harry says reasonably. "Just less of a surprise."

"Well, I'm still not telling."

Harry pouts, a very bright-eyed _happy_ pout, and god, Nick wants to kiss it. He tears his eyes away to avoid a repeat of earlier. "Stop it with your face," he whines.

"You're one to talk." Harry bumps their shoulders, touching the small of Nick's back, only for a moment, to get him walking. Nick feels the phantom pressure of his touch forminutes after. "Oh, hey, they've got an English food stand over there. Let's check it out." Harry grins mischievously, leaning in close. "Or maybe you'd rather stare some more at my mouth."

"Oh, you," Nick starts but Harry has already taken off down the path with a skip in his step. He's a horrid person really. 

Nick is not quite as enamoured by the English food stand as Harry is, but then he hasn't spent the last four weeks away from home. Harry stocks up on durable English "delicacies" (Nick hardly thinks marmite counts as a delicacy but it makes Harry go all starry-eyed) and hands his bags over to Nick while he pays. He forgets to take them back, but carrying Harry's bags for him makes Nick feel all ridiculous and gooey inside.

He can't help but to think of a future where he can hold Harry's hand and sneak the occasional kiss while they buy things together for a mutual home. It should be terrifying how much he wants it, but glancing at Harry, who's busy making friends with a shopkeeper whose daughter is a fan, he's not scared at all.

"He's a good one," Brian remarks, when they both stand back to let Harry take pictures with a group of teenagers who’ve recognised him.

"The best," Nick agrees, chest puffing with pride.

One of the girls, a scrappy little thing with braces and wrists like twigs, is an Alpha and she looks between Nick and Harry with a slight flush to her cheeks. They showered before leaving and most of Nick's scent ought to have gone out of Harry's stolen t-shirt by now, but if she has a good nose on her she can probably still recognize it. It's not too incriminating, not like yesterday with the scent of sex still raw around them, but it'll be enough for a fandom rumour or two if she's so inclined.

Nick finds that he doesn't care. Let them talk. The cat's out of the bag now and there's no use in trying to stuff it back in. He doesn't even want to try.

"Could I have a picture with both of you?" Alpha!girl asks, voice reedy as if it took all her courage to speak up.

"Uh...." Harry gives Nick a questioning look, as if he's not sure Nick would be okay with it.

"Of course," Nick says, stepping around the girls who have already had their pictures to stand on the other side of Alpha!girl. "What's your name?"

"Sheila."

"Nice to meet you, Sheila."

Harry grins wide enough to punch dimples into his cheeks and reaches across Sheila's back to touch Nick's side.

"Smile," Brian says and takes the picture. He looks at it and frowns. "Move closer together, please."

They do, and he snaps another one, giving this one the nod of approval before he hands the phone back to Sheila.

"Thank you so much," she breathes. "I love you two together." She flushes a bright red, giving them a tight smile before she scurries off with her tittering friends.

Nick turns to Harry to find him frowning at Sheila's retreating back. "You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, it's just--I didn't smell her. Not until she got really close." He scrubs at his nose. "You can't just lose your scent, right? What if I suddenly can't smell you?" He looks panicked at the prospect, fisting a hand into Nick's hoodie.

"Do I smell less to you?" Nick asks.

Harry shakes his head jerkily, but he still looks worried.

"Uhm," Brian says, making both of them twitch. "Isn't that what happens when you meet someone special?" He flushes, looking acutely uncomfortable. "At least that's what they said in biology."

"Oh, right." Harry beams. "I don't smell them 'cause I don't care because I have Nick." He gives Nick his most starry-eyed look yet. Nick vows to spend the rest of his life deserving it. "That makes sense."

Nick does vaguely remember hearing that and he just as vaguely remember filing it under things unlikely to ever happen to him. He really is the luckiest bastard alive.

He ducks in close to murmur, "Love you," against Harry's ear, gently untangling himself from Harry's grip in the process. "Hey, there's a tombola over there. Think we should try our luck?"

Harry grabs his hand and squeezes his fingers just for a moment. "I'm going to win you a teddy bear," he announces. "Just you watch." Nick knows he means I love you too.

Harry does win Nick a teddy bear, a small bright pink misshapen thing wearing a shirt with a big red heart on it and, fittingly, a plastic crown.

"I'll sign it for you," Harry promises. "It'll be worth a fortune some day."

"It's worth a fortune now," Nick says, cradling it carefully in the crook of his arm. The sad thing is that he means it.

"Awww," says Brian.

\--

It's almost fully dark when they finally make it back to the hotel, and the rain that's been threatening to fall all day has started coming down, beating hard against the windows.

"We made it back just in time," Nick remarks.

"Time to shag," Harry agrees, and when Nick turns around he's already stripped down to his pants, clothes and bags discarded in a pile just inside the door.

"How did you even--mmphmmm." Nick's silenced by Harry's tongue in his mouth. He can't say he minds.

"Been dying to do that all day," Harry says when they pull apart, reaching up to touch Nick's mouth with his fingertips.

"Tell me about it," Nick mutters, nipping at Harry's fingers. "It's awful how you just prance around with that face on and expect me to think of anything but kissing you."

"I don't expect that." Harry gives him another kiss. "I want you to think about kissing me all the time."

Nick basically does think about kissing Harry all the time. There's probably a corner of his brain that has been devoted to nothing but this thought for the last two years. It used to strike him at the oddest time, this urge, not usually when Harry was being a drunk trollop of a flirt, but rather when he looked soft and worn, like the first few days back from tour, or late at night after a long day of rehearsals.

"When did I fall in love with you even?" Nick asks, running a hand into Harry's hair and giving him another soft kiss.

Harry's smile pops dimples into his cheeks. "Long time ago?" he asks hopefully.

Nick remembers the first time Harry's laugh stole the breath right out of his lungs. Their friendship was still new then, but Harry had already climbed right into Nick's list of his favourite people. When Harry had texted to ask if he could come over late at night Nick said yes even though he had work early the next morning.

Harry turned up on his doorstep twenty minutes later, drenched from a sudden downpour with a mouth as downturned as his sodden curls. It took nearly an hour and two cups of tea to make him smile and when he finally laughed, a pathetic little thing, it made Nick's heart soar. He should probably have figured it out then. He’s pretty dense sometimes.

"Yeah," Nick admits, and he can feel his eyes getting all wrinkly with his smile. Ridiculous. "It really was."

"Uuuuugh." Harry bounces on his heels, digging his fingers into Nick's shoulders. "You're making my eyes prickle. Stop being perfect."

He doesn't look like he wants Nick to stop. He looks like he wants Nick to go on forever. "Fine. I only really want you for your money and your pert little arse." He punctuates the statement by grabbing himself a handful and pulling Harry in to straddle his thigh.

"Fuck." Harry tilts his head back, lashes fluttering. "Feels good."

Nick's still in his jacket, but the thought of Harry getting off riding his thigh while he's still fully dressed is hotter than raging fire. He shuffles them forward, pinning Harry against the wall with the bulk of his body, his knee between Harry's thighs.

"Oh god," Harry whimpers, dropping his head back against the wall with a thump and fisting his hand into Nick's hoodie under his jacket, keeping him in place.

Nick leans in to lick at his neck, biting lightly at the tendon. Harry shudders, hips rutting forward and then forward again, snugging his dick up against the groove of Nick's hip.

"Christ," he breathes, rocking forward as if he can't help himself. "Do you want me to--" He bites down on his lower lip, shifting his hips meaningfully.

"If you want." Nick squeezes Harry's arse. "You look so hot like this."

Harry clings to Nick's hoodie, pulling it tight against his back, and shifts around until he finds the best angle, moaning softly when he gets it right. Nick forehead prickles with sweat

"Wish you could see yourself," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the corner of Harry's panting mouth. "You look amazing like this."

He flexes his fingers on Harry's arse, hitching him closer, and Harry rewards him with a deep groan and a full body shudder. He kisses the moan from Harry's lips, chasing it into his mouth, until Harry has to break away to pant for air, letting out helpless, needy whimpers with every breath. Nick drags his lips down his neck, setting his teeth into the juncture where Harry's neck meets his shoulder.

"Mark me," Harry demands. "Make me feel it."

Nick bites harder, sucking a bruise to the surface and then another one, dotting Harry's shoulder with a string of bites, even though he knows he shouldn't, because he can't get enough of the way Harry moans whenever he bites down.

"Nick," Harry whimpers, straining against his hold, rocking between Nick's hand on his arse and groove of his hip. "Nick, I'm going to--"

"Do it," Nick demands, pulling back enough that he can watch. "Come for me."

Harry does, hips straining forward and back bowing, reddened mouth opening around a wordless groan. He looks amazing, flushed down to his chest with glazed eyes and peaked nipples. Nick drinks in the sight of him, even as he gentles his hold, easing Harry fully onto his feet and pulling him into an embrace.

"Fuck," Harry pants, resting his forehead against Nick's shoulder. "You're going to make my brain leak out through my ears."

Nick chuckles, running his hands up and down Harry's back. It's just so nice to touch him after a whole day of not being allowed. "Excellent provider of orgasms. I'm going to put that on my CV."

"Don't," Harry says, rubbing his cheek against Nick's shoulder. "I don't share."

Just when Nick didn't think it was possible to get any harder in his too-tight jeans. He reaches down to pop the top button.

"Unless it's like a deal breaker," Harry amends, but the way he clutches at Nick's back says he wouldn't be happy about it.

Nick honestly can't fathom wanting to sleep with anyone else ever again. If Harry trades him in for a younger model, he might just join a convent. What would be the point of having substandard sex for the rest of his life? Better to not have any at all.

"I don't want to share either," Nick says, wrapping his arms fully around Harry's back. " _Mine_." He doesn't mean for it to come out all possessive and awful -- Harry's not a thing, Nick doesn't own him -- but it does. "For as long as you want to be, that is," he amends.

"Forever then." Harry presses a kiss to Nick's neck before pulling back slightly to cup Nick's face and kiss his mouth. "I'm not going to change my mind."

Nick drops his hands to Harry's hips, rubbing lightly at his hip cuts. "Same. I mean, the chances that I'm going to find another rich fit teenage pop sensation that want to go out with me are pretty slim. Not everyone has your terrible taste in men..."

"Shut _up_." Harry playfully shoves Nick in the chest. "You're awful."

"See, even you think I'm awful. I'm never going to get Justin Bieber to stoop to my level."

Harry laughs, shoving at Nick again. "Are you angling for compliments? Is that it? Well, Nick Grimshaw, you're well fit, your hair is fantastic, your dick is massive and anyone would be lucky to have you, but they can't because you're mine. So there." He considers Nick, eyes sparkling. "Now get your kit off. I want you to fuck me."

"Hnnngrr."

"Oh, and I forgot your eloquence." Harry grins and darts in to kiss him. "I'm going to clean up and I expect you to be naked on the bed when I'm done."

Nick considers being contrary, but he kind of likes when Harry bosses him around. By the time Harry walks out of the bathroom, he's done as he’s told. Harry stops in the doorway to just look at him for a moment and the way Harry's dick fattens up watching him is the headiest ego boost Nick's ever experienced. _Christ_.

"You need to bring that dick here," he says, reaching out for it.

Harry laughs. "You only want me for my dick," he says, but he does bring it into Nick's range, so he obviously doesn't mind too much.

"And your money and your arse, we covered this." Nick wraps a hand around Harry's cock and pushes up on one elbow to lick across the head.

"Watch your neck," Harry murmurs, cupping Nick's skull to keep his head steady. "And you also like my face." His cock bumps against Nick's lips and Nick opens up for him, letting Harry slide into his mouth. "Oh god," Harry gasps, keeping his thrust shallow and gentle, barely popping the head in before he pulls back. The girth and taste of him makes heat pool low in Nick's stomach, every shallow thrust making his own dick pulse with jealousy. He wants to keep going forever, let Harry fuck his mouth until his eyes water, but Harry's right that the angle is hell on his neck and eventually he has to lie back down to rest it.

Harry curses, following Nick down onto the bed and licking the breath right of his lungs.

"We have to do that proper sometime," Nick says when they pull apart, pushing Harry's hair back from his face before kissing him again.

"Fuck yeah." Harry dips down to give him another kiss before he swings a leg over Nick's hips to straddle him. "Later."

It is quite a sight and Nick puts his hands on Harry's thighs just to touch him. From the flush of his cheeks to the jut of his dick, he’s perfect. Nick really can't believe his luck. Harry stretches over him to reach the nightstand and Nick takes the opportunity to run his hands up over Harry's torso, ending at his shoulders. The string of bites he left down Harry's neck and out over his shoulder are still clearly visible, and he rubs his fingertip over one of the marks. They're smaller than the hickey Harry left on his collarbone, but they'll probably still be visible tomorrow. He resolutely pretends he's not incredibly pleased about that.

Harry straightens up, holding the lube and a string of condoms in his hand, and Nick drops his own hands back to Harry's thighs, just watching him.

"I want you to stay in me this time," Harry says, licking his lips. "I want you to come in me." He blushes saying it but his face is fiercely determined.

"I might knot again, love, and these condoms are not really made for that." No condoms are really made for that, there is just too much fluid, but there are better kinds than these. Nick didn't realise what kind of effect Harry would have on him when he picked up supplies. 

"I'm clean, I've been tested and--there's a contraceptive in my pills."

Now it's Nick's turn to flush, slipping his hands up to Harry's hips, thumbing at his stomach. "You...," He trails off, not sure how to ask.

"I have the parts," Harry mumbles, blushing fiercely. "Don't know if I could."

"Oh." Nick's heart trips, because--wow.

"That doesn't change anything, right? I'm still me."

"Of course not." Nick really wants to kiss Harry's stomach but he can't reach and he doesn't want to make a big deal if it's something Harry feels insecure about. "I think it's lovely."

"Yeah?" Harry looks so hopeful, that's the thing, like he thinks it's a miracle too but doesn't know if he's supposed to. "Some people think it's freaky."

"I don't. I think it's beautiful."

Harry's eyes glitter suspiciously when he bends down to give Nick a kiss, so he doesn't say anything more, just cups a hand over the back of Harry's neck and kisses him back.

"I'm glad you told me," Nick says when Harry pulls back and still looks a bit embarrassed. "I'll call my doc when I get back to London and get a prescription for Insalta."

"Don't have to," Harry mumbles.

"I want to. I've been on them before, just haven't had a use for them in a while." The last time he renewed his prescription was two months before he met Harry and he's not been with an Omega since. It's not necessary for both partners to be on contraceptives, but it considerably lowers the risk of an accidental pregnancy. Nick's always preferred to be safe over being sorry. A million times so, he thinks, when it's Harry.

"So." Harry fiddles with the condoms, a blush spreading over his cheeks again. "Will you?"

Nick wants to. He wants to more than anything and he knows he's clean. He goes for regular testing and his love life has been as exciting as a barren desert since his last set of tests. He's not been pining, but in retrospect he hasn't exactly been putting himself out there either.

But, god, he's never fucked anyone without a condom. Even during heats he's used one, because that's what you do, you use protection. He's had that drilled into him from an early age. Andy would have his head if he knew he was even considering it.

"Are you still sore from yesterday?" he asks, sliding two fingers in between Harry's cheeks and rubbing them over his opening in a gentle caress.

"No." Harry's eyes flutter shut and he leans forward to give Nick better access, pushing his arse in the air. "Feels good."

The skin between Harry's cheeks is silky soft and hairless, and even with the gentle way Nick is stroking across Harry's hole, he can feel Harry's body opening up for him. Omega physiology is truly amazing.

He pulls his hand back and plucks the supplies from Harry's lax fingers. Harry puts his hands down on the bed on either side of Nick's shoulders, bracketing him. He opens his eyes to watch as Nick puts the condoms aside before coating his fingers liberally with lube, enough to have it dripping on his torso as he brings his hand back down.

Harry lets out a low moan when Nick finds his final destination and carefully starts rubbing the lube into Harry's skin.

"I don't finger myself enough," Harry mumbles, slipping further down so that his head is resting on Nick's shoulder. "Feels so good."

There's a visual Nick and his already perky dick didn't need. _Fuck_. He slips his free hand around Harry's waist, tracing the line of his spine with his fingertips as he gently sinks two fingers into Harry's overwhelming heat.

"Have you ever fingered yourself in my bed?" Nick asks, because apparently he likes to torture himself.

" _No_." Harry squirms back on Nick's fingers because apparently he wants Nick to come prematurely. "Only in your shower."

Nick actually moans, which is embarrassing, but so does Harry. "Is it good for fingering, my shower? I've never tried. I like to stay in bed and take my time."

"Oh god." Harry pushes back hard, taking Nick's fingers as deep as they'll go and lets out a moan. "I can't--"

Nick can't either. He can't anything. He's already sweating with how hot it is and soon he'll be fucking Harry bare.

"Nick, please."

Nick takes pity on him, adding more lube and giving it to him harder, deeper, using the length of his fingers as he's sure someone must have intended. He loves it, that's the thing. He loves the amount of control he has, how he can alter the speed and depth without also altering his own mind. Giving someone a good dicking requires an amount of control it's hard to muster when it feels so good, but giving someone a good fingering is nearly as rewarding and he can stay with them to the very end without losing rhythm or his own mind.

"Need you," Harry pants, clutching at Nick's shoulders. "Please. Need you in me."

It's tempting to have Harry ride him. It would only take a minor adjustment to have him sliding down on Nick's dick, but if Nick knots the position will be awkward for Harry to hold. From behind would be ideal, especially for a first knotting, but he's not sure Harry will go for that, and truth be told, Nick would like to keep sight of his face.

"How do you want me, love?" he asks, sliding his left hand up to pet Harry's hair while keeping two fingers of his right pressed into him.

"On my back," Harry answers promptly. "Please."

"Okay." Nick slips his fingers out as gently as he can and grabs two pillows to prop him up while Harry rolls over clumsily and pulls his legs up. He looks amazing, hole glistening and dick slick, already flushed down to his chest, watching Nick with hazy, blown-black eyes. Nick takes a moment to kiss him before he pulls back to get them both into the best possible position.

Harry watches intently while Nick slicks his dick with too much lube for someone who's already dripping, fingers digging into his own legs where he's holding them spread. 

"You sure about this?" Nick asks, as he shuffles into position, pressing a kiss to the inside of Harry's knee and the back of his hand.

"So sure. Want it so much."

Nick nods, curling his right hand around his dick and rubbing it across Harry's opening. With a scentless he'd wait a while to let them get used to the sensation but he knows he doesn't have to with Harry, gently pushing forward until he slips inside.

Harry lets out a reedy whine, letting go of his legs to grab at sheets. "More."

Nick gives him more, sliding forward in one long continuous push until he's buried to hilt in Harry's clutching body. He takes a moment to breathe because Harry's so hot and tight it's giving him vertigo and Christ he's _bare_ but Harry's having none of that, squirming on Nick dick and letting out needy little whimpers that might prove to be the death of Nick yet.

He's already so hard, Harry, dripping on his stomach, which is a blessing because Nick is not going to last long himself. He feels like he's been waiting his whole life for this moment, and it's even better than he thought it'd be, even if the difference, he reckons, is mostly in his head.

"Please, Nick," Harry begs, arching up and getting his legs around Nick's back. "Please fuck me."

If anyone's ever turned down an invitation like that, they're an idiot. Nick starts out slow, getting used to the heightened sensation with deep rolling thrusts, delighting in the way Harry moans softly every time he bottoms out. But soon it's not enough, nothing is enough, and he falls forward on his elbows, pressing desperate kisses to Harry's gasping mouth while he ruts into him with uncoordinated urgency. He really hopes it's doing something for Harry because he's already on the edge, sweat dripping from his brow and getting in his eyes.

"Oh." One of Harry's hands finds Nick's hip, pulling him in. "Oh god."

Somehow Nick manages enough coordination to get a hand on Harry's dick, and seconds later, Harry's coming in deep trembling pulses, gasping Nick's name and clutching at his hip. Nick tries to slow down, to make sure that Harry's okay with more, but as soon as he tries, Harry lets out a whine and urges him on with heels and hands.

"Come in me," he begs. "Nick, please, I need it."

Nick's orgasms starts in the soles of his feet, curling his toes before it rushes up his thighs and bursts through his belly, licking fire along his nerve endings. He slows down his thrusts when the base of his dick starts swelling, until he's just resting inside Harry, still coming, while he pants for breath.

"Oh my god," Harry breathes, eyes huge. "That feels...." He whimpers, squirming on Nick's knot in a way that sends spikes of pleasure through Nick's loins.

"You okay?" Nick manages, wiping the sweat from Harry's forehead and pressing a kiss to his reddened lips.

"Yeah." It's barely a breath and he finds Nick's come-slick hand on the sheets, bringing it to his still hard cock. "I'm so good."

He sounds completely blissed out already but he lets out a low groan when Nick starts wanking him off again, digging his fingers into Nick's upper arms.

"Feels so... _Fuck_."

It's still not a full knot. Nick could pull out if he wanted to. Instead he grinds his hips into Harry, drawing out his own orgasm and working Harry over until he's gasping with it, a pile of need and nerve endings in Nick's trembling arms.

Harry sinks a hand into Nick's hair, pulling him down for a messy kiss that’s more tongue and breath than anything else. He's lifting into Nick's gentle rocking as well as he can, body sucking at Nick's knot, and it's so good Nick can't even breathe.

Harry whimpers when he comes again, spilling hotly over Nick's fingers, and tears well up at the corners of his eyes. "Don't stop," he begs, clutching at Nick, pulling him even closer. "Stay in me."

Nick couldn't stop yet if he wanted to, keeping up his slow grind while he touches Harry all over, petting every inch of sweat slick skin he can reach until Harry's full on sobbing. It's too much and not enough and he's not exactly surprised when Harry seems to come again, finally milking Nick dry with the drawn out shivering pulses of his orgasm. 

Harry whimpers when Nick slips out of him and Nick only pauses to arrange them into a more comfortable position with Harry flat on his back before he gently slips two fingers back into Harry's clinging body, feeling the wetness inside while he presses kisses all over Harry's wet face.

"You're okay, love," he murmurs. "I got you."

Harry turns his head into the kisses, licking at Nick's mouth while he slides a hand down over his messy torso to touch his own cock. It's still plumped up, resting against his stomach, and he whines weakly when he gets his fingers around it, rubbing at the slick head.

Four orgasms is a bit much, even for Harry, but Nick keeps fucking him gently with his fingers until Harry finally relaxes, hand going lax over his cock. Only then does he pull out, as slowly as he can, and he keeps his fingertips against Harry's opening until it stops clenching emptily. As soon as Nick lies down fully Harry curls into his arms, pressing his face into Nick's neck.

They stay like that for a while, Nick with one hand in Harry's hair and the other wrapped tightly around his back. He's so blissed out he doesn't even realise Harry's giving him a hickey until it starts to sting. "Babe," he chides, tugging lightly on Harry's hair.

"Mine," Harry says fiercely, digging his chin into Nick's shoulder. "Everyone must know."

Nick chuckles; so much for keeping people guessing, even though he has a feeling most of them are guessing correctly by now. The terrible anxiety he felt sneaking down the corridor with Lou four days ago already seems like it happened to someone else. He's ready. He doesn't need it to happen right now, but when it does, he's ready for it.

Harry paws at Nick's chin until he turns his head to let Harry kiss him, slow and deep, stealing the breath Nick just managed to get back. "Love you," Harry murmurs when they pull back, eyes intense.

Nick has that feeling again, like there's so much love in his chest it's spilling over everywhere, like he's reaching out for Harry with his very heart strings. "Love you too." It comes out a bit choked but Harry doesn't seem to mind, pulling him into another kiss.

"You should remove your contacts," Harry says when they pull apart, thumbing gently at the corner of Nick's eye. "Your eyes look a bit red."

Nick's eyes are stinging, but it's probably more a combination of sweat and the enormity of how much Harry makes him feel than his contacts. "I should, and we definitely need a shower too."

Harry smiles dreamily, still touching Nick's face with curious fingertips. "I think I came dry the last time."

"Yeah?"

"It was so intense and it was almost like--" He makes a face, shrugging slightly.

"Like what?"

Harry chews at his lower lips and stares intently at Nick's nose. "Almost like I could feel you too? I don't know. It was amazing. You're amazing." He kisses Nick again, almost catching his own curious fingertips between their mouths before they find a home spanning Nick's cheek.

"You're pretty amazing too." Nick isn't equipped to think about emotional echo right now because that's a bond thing, the real deal, and Harry's not even into his scent.

Harry's eyes flutter shut and he presses his nose into Nick's neck. "You have the best smell right now," he murmurs. "I love this smell."

"Rank?" Nick guesses, because the sweat and come is drying in itchy patches.

"The other kind of smell." Harry mouths at Nick's neck as if he's trying to taste it. "This is the best one but I don't know what it means. It's like warmth and..." He inhales deeply. "Fondness?"

Nick cards his fingers through Harry's hair, heart jumping. "I think it's my love smell, darling."

Harry lifts his head, brow furrowing.

"I think it's what I smell like when I love you especially much. You know how when you love someone you always feel it, but sometimes they'll do something and you'll be all overcome with it? I think it's that smell."

Harry blinks rapidly, mouth trembling, and, well, it's been minutes since Nick last made him cry. He makes a tiny noise and buries his face into Nick's neck again, sniffling, and Nick brings his arms up to hold him tightly. He wants to open up his chest and tuck Harry inside, let him curl up around the heart that belongs to him anyway, but he supposes that would be messy in real life. He squeezes Harry a little harder instead, pressing a kiss into his matted curls.

"What do you say we shower and get ready for the night, love?"

Harry nods, pressing his lips against Nick's neck. "Yes, please."

\--

By the time they get out of the shower, Harry is nearly asleep on his feet, leaning against Nick's back while he washes his face and takes out his contacts.

"Go to bed, love," Nick says, reaching back to pat Harry's hip. "I'll join you in a minute."

"No," Harry mumbles, rubbing his face against Nick's shoulder blade. "'M having an Aerosmith moment."

"A what?"

"Don't wanna close my eyes, don't wanna fall asleep, I still miss you babe and I don't wanna miss a thing," Harry sings, voice low and gravelly. He has his cheek pressed against Nick's shoulder and his breath fans warmly over Nick's bare back. Nick blames the goose bumps on that. 

"Sap," he says, mostly to mask he's getting all choked up.

"Romantic," Harry counters.

Nick finishes applying his face cream and wipes the excess off on the back of his hands -- he can't be getting old hands prematurely now that he's dating a teenager -- before he turns around in the circle of Harry's arms and lifts his chin for a kiss.

"Guess you are pretty romantic," he allows. "Sorry if I'm shite at it. Haven't had much practice."

Harry blinks at him. "Nick, you flew to _New York_. This has been the best weekend of my life." 

"Everyone likes a good dicking," Nick says sagely because if he says something else he might cry.

"Idiot," Harry says fondly, pushing up on his toes to give Nick another kiss. "I do like a good dicking though." He thumbs at Nick's waist. "Like a good knotting too."

Nick looks down between them, raising his eyebrows at Harry's plumped up cock. "Seriously?"

Harry looks down as well. "I don't really think anything’s going to happen, but in the shower, when you washed me, that was really hot."

Nick's stomach floods with warmth. "Maybe when you come back from tour, I'll run you a bath, huh?" He sinks a hand into Harry's hair and tilts his head back for another kiss.

Harry smiles against his mouth. "I'd like that."

For a long moment they just breathe at each other like losers before Nick finds the strength to pull away, putting some distance between their faces. He thumbs lightly at the corner of Harry's lovely mouth.

"I don't want you to go," Harry says lowly. "I'm going to miss you so much."

"It's only a month." It already feels like an eternity. "You'll barely have time to notice I'm gone. When you call to say you're in London, I'll be like, wow, already? Didn't miss you at all."

"Liar." Harry presses a soft kiss to Nick's lips. "You'll miss me terribly."

"Yeah," Nick admits, kissing Harry again. "I will."

"The car's picking us up at 7:30 tomorrow morning, right?"

"Yeah." Nick booked the latest possible flight out and it still leaves at 9:20am.

"We better go to bed then." Harry reluctantly drops his hands from Nick's waist and steps back.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna gather my toiletries so I'm ready for tomorrow."

"Okay."

By the time Nick makes it into the bedroom, Harry has straightened the bed, picked their clothes up from the floor and put both their phones to charge. He's sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, turning the package from the crystal booth over between his fingers.

"It fell out of your pocket," he says when Nick joins him on the bed.

"Go ahead then. Open it."

Harry bites down his lower lip as he carefully folds the package open and reveals the necklaces. "Oh," he says, touching a fingertip to one of the crystals. "They're gorgeous."

He carefully detangles one of the chains. "Put it on me."

Nick obliges, carefully fastening the clasp around Harry's neck. The chain is longer than that of his cross so the crystal hangs almost in line with his nipples. It doesn't glow, and Nick swears he's only a little disappointed.

"Now you." Harry holds up the second necklace and Nick leans forward to let him fasten it. "Looks good." Harry touches the crystal where it rests against Nick's breastbone. He's smiling, the best kind of smile with his dimples out in full force. "I love it. Thank you." He leans in and presses his smile to Nick's mouth. "Did you set the alarm? Breakfast's at 6:30."

"Six then?"

"Sounds good."

Nick doesn't say Harry doesn't have to get up with him, because of course he will, and of course Nick wants him to. He fiddles with his phone for ages, dropping a quick text to Aimee to see if she can pick him up, before he finally sets his alarm and lies down. Harry curls into his arms immediately and pulls the covers up to his chin.

"Wait," he says suddenly. "We have to set the alarm for 5:30."

He grabs Nick's phone off the nightstand and changes the alarm settings. Maybe Nick shouldn't have told him the pass code once upon a blue moon, not that he has secrets.

"Why 5:30?"

Harry puts the phone down and puts his head back on Nick's shoulder. "So we have time to shag."

Nick's boyfriend is the best boyfriend. All other boyfriends can clearly go home. "Good thinking, love." He squeezes Harry's waist, grinning up at the ceiling. "Night."

"Night."

Nick is almost asleep when Harry stirs again, whispering his name.

"Yeah," he mumbles without opening his eyes.

Harry's silent for so long Nick would think he was asleep if it wasn't for the absent way he's toying with the crystal resting on Nick's chest. Finally Harry says, "I think you'll love my scent like I love yours."

Nick smiles and reaches up to cover Harry's hand on his chest. "I'm counting on it."

Harry's silent again, wriggling into an even more comfortable position. "Good."

Nick falls asleep still smiling.

\--

Nick wakes up to Harry petting his hair while humming something Nick doesn't recognise. Maybe he's getting an early morning One Direction exclusive, or maybe Harry's making it up as he goes along. Nick blinks his eyes open.

"What time is it?" he croaks, voice not yet ready for the day.

"5:20." Harry kisses his temple. "Morning."

"Morning." Nick turns his face into Harry's, nuzzling him lightly. "I need a wee."

Harry laughs, sounding way too awake for 5:20 in the morning. "Go ahead then." He shoves Nick's side gently. "I'll wait."

Getting up is awful, but Nick still manages somehow, staggering unsexily to his feet and probably flashing Harry way more of his arse than he wants to see at this early hour. Then again, it's Harry, so there might not actually be a limit to how much of Nick's arse he wants to see at any given time of day. Novel thought.

Nick does quick work of taking care of his needs and brushing his teeth, all too aware of the clock ticking down their last few hours together. He wants more hours, more _days_. Quitting his job to be a kept man has never sounded more appealing.

When he gets back into the bedroom Harry has draped himself across the bed in an artful mockery of a French girl, one leg pulled up and his dick resting on his thigh.

"Now that's a sight." Nick pauses to take him in. He wishes he could take a picture. He's taken a few innocent ones over the course of the weekend, but he wants to remember Harry exactly like this; easy, carefree, self-assured and so bloody gorgeous he takes Nick's breath away.

"Come here." Harry's morning voice is lower than usual and sexily raspy. Nick never wants to listen to anything else ever again. 

Nick goes easily, crawling into the bed and into Harry's waiting arms, giving him a long slow kiss.

"I keep forgetting," Harry says when they pull apart, touching one of Nick's fading bruises with his fingertips. "Is that awful? The one on your hip is still a shiner."

It has run down over Nick's arse, mottling half his arse cheek purple, but it only hurts if he puts pressure on it. 

"I keep forgetting too." Nick kisses him. "It's okay." The whole thing feels like it happened to someone else. His forehead feels a bit tender and the stitches itch occasionally, but other than that, he no longer feels his tumble down the hill. He figures he owes this miraculous recovery to Harry and the truly astonishing amount of sex they've had over the last four days. His body is busy being sore in more interesting ways.

"My panda love." Harry smiles, touching the corner of Nick's eye where the skin is faintly tinted purple.

"Please, I'm clearly a pirate. Rawrrr."

"I'm scared." Harry rolls fully onto his back, pulling Nick on top of him. "Are you going to ravage me?"

"Mmm, probably, yeah." Nick presses a kiss to Harry's smiling mouth. "Bit of loving pillaging, perhaps." He strokes a hand down Harry's side to his hip. "Might even go as far as some tender plundering."

Harry giggles, pulling Nick into another kiss. "Plunder me, oh savage beast," he declares dramatically, spreading his arms and legs wide. "I'm yours for the taking."

"You make a great damsel in not a lot of distress." Nick kisses Harry's jaw, trailing his lips down Harry's neck. "But what if I'm a _vampire_ pirate?" He sets his teeth into the juncture where Harry's shoulder meets his neck.

"Oh god." Harry clamps a hand onto the back of Nick's head, holding him in place. "I'd let you suck me dry."

Nick sucks hard, hard enough, probably, to leave a bruise, but fuck it, he's leaving today and he wants to leave something behind. When he pulls back Harry's skin is hot to the touch and flushed dark red.

"Did you leave a mark?" Harry ask breathlessly as Nick moves further down, licking the length of his collarbone and pressing a kiss to one of the swallows. 

"Probably."

" _Good_."

Nick noses down Harry's chest until he finds one of Harry's deliciously puffy nipples, teasing it with his tongue until it turns into a stiff peak against his lips.

"That feels so good." Harry's voice is scratchy and rough and his dick is a hot hard line against Nick's stomach.

"Mmmhmm," Nick agrees, licking across the butterfly tattooed on Harry's sternum to his other nipple, already peaked with anticipation. He brings a hand up to toy with the nipple he just pulled off of while he sucks gently on his new friend.

" _Fuck_." Harry groans, hips thrusting up against Nick's stomach. "Come up here." He tugs lightly on Nick's hair and Nick follows his beckoning. Suddenly he wants to kiss Harry more than anything.

Nick puts his elbows on the bed by Harry's shoulders and brackets his head with his forearms, kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until his lips feel numb with it.

"Like this, yeah?" Harry asks roughly, curling a leg around Nick's hips so that their dicks slot together. He looks wrecked and lovely and sad all at once, fingers digging into Nick's shoulder blades and eyes shimmering.

"Yeah." Nick kisses him again, soft and lingering. "Just like this."

It's not the best angle to thrust against each other but it doesn't matter; they kiss and kiss and writhe together until they're both breathless and their stomachs are slick with precome.

"I need to--" Harry keens, baring his neck, and Nick finds the mark he left there earlier and bites down. "Oh." Harry digs his fingers into Nick's back, arching up. " _Nick_."

Nick finally fumbles a hand in between them to hold their dicks together, thrusting down with more purpose while Harry whimpers breathlessly against his ear. They don't come together, not really, but it's close enough that it's impossible to tell who really comes first, the space between them slick with come and sweat.

"I love you," Nick murmurs, moving his hand to Harry's hip and kissing his gorgeous swollen mouth. "I wish I could stay forever."

"Me too," Harry whispers, sinking his fingers into Nick's hair, holding him in place for another kiss. "I want to have this always."

But soon enough they're seated at breakfast with their ankles tangled under the table, poking listlessly at their food.

"I'm going to cry," Harry says matter-of-factly. "When we say goodbye." He squeezes Nick's ankles under the table. "I don't want you to feel bad about it."

Nick might cry too. He might cry right now. Harry looks so lovely in Nick's half-buttoned flannel shirt with his swollen mouth and wild halo of hair. Nick doesn't want to leave. He wants to call Ben Cooper and arrange for a way to broadcast from one of One Direction's tour buses, or maybe just resign and be Harry's kept man from now on for real.

Harry makes a sad little face, nudging Nick's feet under the table. "Eat your pancakes. The car will be here soon and I want a snuggle."

Nick gives him a small smile and does as he's told.

Harry goes to the bathroom after they're done eating and Nick checks his phone real quick. He's got a message from Aimee consenting to pick him up and one from Pixie that he opens mostly because she nearly never texts him outside their flourishing group chat.

_If yr still wth H put 1 of yr used shirts (dry!!) in a bag, suck out air, tie tight and hide in his bag. G does that fr me. Vrrrry nice. *thumbs up* *thumbs up* *heart* Love you both. Xxx_

Nick glances at the bathroom door and very hurriedly follows the instructions using his shirt from last night and one of the discarded bags from their market trip. He slips the bag into the empty front pocket of Harry's suitcase and returns to his own bag just as Harry comes out of the bathroom. 

"Don't forget this," Harry says, holding out Nick's toiletry bag.

"Thanks." Nick takes it from Harry's hands and fits it into his bag, zipping it closed. "All done."

Harry nods mutely. He looks a bit like he had a sneaky cry in the bathroom, eyes red and cheeks blotchy.

"Oh, come here, love," Nick says, opening his arms. "We'll be fine."

"I know," Harry mumbles, burrowing into his arms and squeezing him hard around the waist. "Doesn't make me feel better though."

For a long moment they just cling intensely, breathing in sync. Goodbyes are awful, that's the thing, and Nick always sucked at them.

Harry's phone pings and he reluctantly wriggles it out of his pocket to look at it. "Car's ready."

"Okay." Nick takes ages shrugging his jacket on and shouldering his bag. He doesn't bother with the beanie this time, but he tucks his shades into the collar of his t-shirt. Harry watches him get ready with tears dripping down his cheeks and it's the most heartbreaking thing Nick has ever seen.

"Darling." He cups Harry's face between his palms and tries to swipe the tears away with his thumbs. "Don't be sad."

Harry rolls his eyes, managing a smile. "Of course I'm sad. Don't be daft. I'll get over it though."

Nick's own eyes don’t feel entirely dry as he leans in to kiss Harry's tear slick lips. "I love you."

"Love you too." Harry kisses him again, curling his hands around Nick's wrists and holding on tight for a moment before he lets go and straightens up. "You better go so you don't miss your flight. I'd hate to have to do this again."

Nick chuckles, pushing Harry's hair back from his face and kissing him again. "I'll call you when I land."

"You better." Harry backs Nick towards the door in a repeat of their last goodbye. "Now leave before I cry again."

Nick doesn't point out that he hasn't actually stopped crying yet. He just kisses Harry again, thumbs at his lovely cheeks and somehow manages to gather the strength to actually get the door open.

"Bye," Harry says, stepping back and giving him a little wave.

"Bye." Nick waves back and then finally steps into the corridor and lets the door fall shut. It feels a bit like being punched in the heart.

He takes a couple of deep breaths, wipes at his eyes, squares his shoulders and takes off down the corridor. He's twenty-eight years old. He can do this.


	3. Heats And Bonds

\--

Nick feels strangely hollow as he walks off the plane and into the bowels of Heathrow Airportbehind a woman dragging a sparkly pink Hello Kitty carry-on behind her, as if he left a piece of his heart behind in New York. He hadn’t expected the physical feeling to be quite so intense.

He rubs absently at his chest as he follows the path of the Hello Kitty bag towards passport control. He feels all kinds of out of sorts; his weekend bag digs into his shoulder even though Harry made it off with half his clothes and he's had a lowkey headache since they took off from JFK. He's sweaty and wrinkly and hungry and he really just wants to be home already. It's possible he's feeling a bit sorry for himself.

Despite the relatively late hour, he has to queue to have his passport checked, so he gets in line behind a family of four and fishes his phone out of his pocket to turn it on. He seems to be attracting a bit of attention, enough that he catches the occasional murmur of his name, but he stays bent over his phone, pretending he doesn't notice.

He sends off a quick message to Harry to say that he's landed and that he'll call once he's home and gets a string of xs in reply, quickly followed by: _There were paps at the market. Lena says we fail at subtle._ He’s sent a picture of the two of them, and there's nothing particularly incriminating about it except for how they're gazing at each other like lovesick fools, but it makes Nick's stomach churn regardless.

_She mad?_

_No but she wants us to review possible statements. xx_

Nick doesn't care what their statement says as long as Harry's fine with it and it also paints Harry in the best possible light. He knows that'll never fly with Harry though.

_Have her send the drafts to me and we'll discuss it later. Xx_

He reaches the front of the line and stuffs his phone back in his pocket, getting his passport out instead. The identity check only takes a minute and then he's walking through the automatic doors and into the airport proper. The baggage claim area is as noisy as ever, whiny children and weary travellers clustered around the chugging carousels. He smiles at a brown-haired cherub who’s blinking sleepily at him from his mother's shoulder and gets a tentative smile in return. It lifts his spirits considerably. 

Still smiling, he gets his phone out to text Aimee only to find she's already texted him. _Fix ur hair. I'm not the only one waiting._

He stops, staring at the message for a moment. _Pap?_

_More than one. Ur moving up in the world._

Nick mutters a curse under his breath and heads for the nearest toilet. He suspects there's not much to do about his rumpled visage, but he's not going out there with terrible hair.

Ten minutes later he walks into the arrivals hall in a fresh t-shirt and with his hair somewhat tamed and walks into a wall of flashing lights, clicking shutters, and shouts for his attention. There are only about five or six photographers crowding up to the barrier separating the arrivals from the main hall, but they make enough noise for twenty.

"Grimmy. Grimmy. Grimmy. Look over here. How's Harry? Grimmy. Grimmy. Is it true that you're dating Harry now? Grimmy. Grimmy. How's the head?"

He makes it past the railing and they on his heels, lights flashing. "Grimmy. Grimmy. Did Harry wait for you arse up?"

Nick stops, stomach roiling. Aimee, who's waiting a little ways off with the car keys dangling from her hand, catches his eyes and shakes her head slightly. He ignores her and turns around. There's a burst of flashes but then they all lower their cameras, staring at him expectantly, as does half the rest of the arrivals hall, he reckons. They're causing quite the scene.

He wants to lash out, wants to call them out for being sensationalist vultures, wants to scream at them to never insult Harry in his presence again, but instead he smiles tightly.

"You can write what you want about me, but please don't be rude about Harry." He hopes he looks more calm and collected than he feels.

One of them, a young guy with stringy hair who's the only one Nick doesn't recognize, slowly raises his hand. After a moment of hesitation Nick nods.

"How's the head?" he asks, shuffling his feet like a nervous child. He won't last long in this profession with that attitude.

"It's okay." He smiles. "All that fresh New York air did me good."

Stringy's mouth twitches, as if he's not sure he's allowed to laugh.

"Is it true you're dating Harry then?" One of the other's ask, Nick thinks his name is Peter. They all lean forward waiting for his answers, probably filming as well, their cameras lowered but lenses still pointed at his face.

A thousand denials flit through Nick's head, but in the end he just says, "None of your business."

There's a beat of silence before the questions start up again, an excited chatter that makes his headache level up on top of his anxious nausea. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "No more soundbites. It's late and I'm tired and I'm going home to sleep off the jetlag." He backs up a couple of steps, moving closer to Aimee. "Try not to misquote me too much, okay?"

He turns around on his heel and starts walking towards the lifts, ignoring the way they shout for him. Aimee falls into step after a moment, half running to keep up with her shorter legs.

"Well, that went well," she says lowly. "I thought you were going to murder someone."

"I'm a pacifist," Nick says loftily. Mostly he's a coward, he reckons, but sadly enough he probably would attempt to fight someone for Harry's honour. He'd lose, but he'd try.

They manage to get a lift to themselves, slinking in as a family exits and hitting the close door button. The pap brigade seems to have stopped pursuing them. Nick reckons they're either happy with the quotes they got or on a mad dash to beat Nick home. He hopes it's the former; the world doesn't need more pictures of his disheveled self.

Aimee hits the button for the correct level and turns around to look at him. "So. " She leans back against the brushed steel wall and crosses her feet at the ankle. "Did you have a good vacation? Was the popstar everything you hoped for?"

To his great horror, Nick actually _blushes_ and Aimee lets out a delighted cackle.

"That good, huh?" She waggles her eyebrows, eyes sparkling.

"Shut up," he whines, covering his face with his hands. "You're awful."

"I'm _amazing_." She pokes him in the arm. "Come on, Grim. Spill. I told you about that one time with the orange juice, you owe me this."

He lowers his hands. "I didn't exactly _want_ to hear about that one time with the orange juice. I still have mental scars."

"Who drove you to the airport? Who's here to pick you up? I deserve at least two, no, three, dirty details."

Nick is saved from answering by the lift slowing to a stop and the doors opening to reveal two older men in tweed suits. 

"I'm not letting you off the hook." Aimee points a stern finger at him as she brushes past the suits and heads towards the pay centre.

"Didn't think you would," Nick mutters, as he follows on her heels and fishes his wallet to pay for the ticket. "You never do." 

\--

"So," Aimee says once they're safely on the M4 heading into London. "He has a big dick, right? Bet it's bigger than yours even."

"Rude." Nick glares at her. What kind of a friend is she anyway?

" I _knew_ it. I'm never wrong about a big dick swagger."

Nick had known Harry for approximately three days when Aimee first told him he had a "big dick swagger," a theory that turned out to be a real struggle to not confirm with his own two eyes given Harry’s propensity for near-nudity. Nick deserves a medal for what Harry put him through during the first two years of their acquaintance. He's going to have one made and pin it to his lapel: "Nick Grimshaw, Champion of The Averted Gaze."

"Do I have a big dick swagger?" Nick's dick is plenty big, thank you very much, Harry's just a tiny bit bigger.

"’Course you do." She reaches over to pat his thigh. "But that's expected."

It's true that Omegas generally have smaller cocks. Nick is truly blessed. He's the kind of blessed where he really wants to grab Aimee and shake her a bit while shouting about how much he loves Harry and also maybe ask her what the fuck he thinks he's doing dating an international pop sensation. It seemed so easy when it was just him and Harry in a New York hotel room. 

It's started raining outside, a classic British drizzle that suits his mood perfectly, and the squeak of the windshield wipers isn't doing his headache any favours.

"Are we there yet?" he asks, thumping his head back against the headrest. "I'm tired."

"Awww, someone's grumpy." Aimee reaches over to pat his hand where it's resting on his thigh. "Missing the popstar already?"

"Yeah," Nick admits, blowing out a breath. "Ridiculous, huh?"

"Nah," Aimee says, giving him one of the softest smiles she's ever thrown in his direction. "I think it's sweet."

Ages later, when Nick crawls into his cold and empty bed after a snack, a shower, and a too short call to Harry, he thinks about that smile and the way Aimee kept looking at him as if she was seeing someone brand new. He feels different, he thinks, like his world grew and shrunk at the same time.

He kind of wants to text Harry: _I think you took me apart and put me together different._ but he takes a sleepy selfie and captions it _My bed is too big without you in it. *heart emoji*_ instead because he's not sure Harry would get he means different in a good way and he doesn't think he could explain it properly if he tried.

Harry doesn't text him back straight away, probably busy getting ready backstage, so with a sigh Nick checks that his alarms are set and puts his phone aside. He thinks it's going to take him ages to fall asleep and he's fully prepared to stare mournfully up at the ceiling and recalculate how many hours of sleep he'll manage if he falls asleep _right now_ a hundred times, but he's out like a light as soon as he's turned the bedside light off. If he was awake, he'd almost feel betrayed.

\--

Nick's in a dreadful mood on Monday morning, not helped in the slightest by the bruised sky bouncing rain off the sidewalk with enough force for the backlash to soak his knees.

"I hate London," he tells Harry, leaning against the cab window and slipping his eyes shut so he won't have to look at the misery. He had quite enough of that making a mad dash for the cab. "Want to run away to the Caribbean with me?"

"You love London," Harry says fondly. "But I wouldn't turn down a nice tropical vacation. I bet you'd freckle spectacularly."

"Ugh, don't remind me." Nick does freckle spectacularly; he once tanned naked and got freckles on his dick.

"I like your freckles." Harry sounds awfully chipper and reasonable and not at all like he's missing Nick terribly. It makes Nick feel even more grumpy if he's honest.

"Freckles are dumb," he says even though he doesn't mind them that much. They do give some colour to his face that otherwise tends more toward a deathly pallor than the golden tan of his dreams. 

"Okay, then, Grumpshaw." Harry laughs, sounding fond and amused and still not like he's missing Nick terribly. It's decidedly unfair because Nick has this huge dumb lump of missing in his chest that won't go away. Granted, it's barely been a day, but still, it feels like the forever kind of lump. The kind of lump that can only be cured by Harry physical presence in his life.

The cab turns a corner and Nick can see the BBC Broadcasting House looming in the distance, as wet and miserable looking as the rest of London. Usually he quite likes the sight of it in any weather but not today.

"Almost there," he says and the lump grows three sizes, squishing his lungs.

"Should probably let you go then. The nation needs you."

"Yeah." Nick swallows, rubbing at his stupid lumpy chest. "Suppose so." It's late in Philadelphia where Harry is right now and he needs his beauty sleep. "Call me when you wake up, yeah?"

"Of course."

Nick presses the phone closer to his ear, pretending his eyes aren't stinging. "Sleep well, love."

"I'll try my best. Have a good show. Love you."

"You too. Bye bye bye bye."

Harry disconnects and Nick lowers the phone to his lap. The cabbie catches his eyes in the rear-view mirror. He has a kind face and a kinder smile and somehow that makes the lump grow even more. "Rough morning?"

"Yeah," Nick admits, blowing out a breath. "The worst."

"It'll get better." The cabbie smiles again. "The sun will come out again, you'll see."

"Let's hope so." Nick squeezes his phone so hard it digs into the fleshy part of his palm. "I could use some sunshine right about now."

The sun doesn't come out before the cab slows to a stop at the curb by the Radio 1 entrance and Nick's sprint for cover has the security guard chuckling at him as he nearly runs into the automatic doors. 

"Nice day for it," he says from behind his desk, eyes sparkling.

"Ha." Nick flaps a hand at him as he heads for the inner doors. "Tell me about it."

The thing about radio, though, is that Nick loves it and by the time he's settled in his chair with his headphones perched on his head and a mic before his face he feels almost himself again, the dread-lump having shrunk to a manageable size. Maybe he can do this after all.

\--

It takes four days for Nick's high flowing emotions to settle enough that missing Harry doesn't feel like a full time job. He still has a recurring dread-lump problem that hits him at the stupidest of times, but work and friends and family and routine helps keep it at a manageable level. It's worse for Harry whose life is hectic and boring in about equal parts with moments of frantic energy leading into long stretches of nothing at all. He does fine when he's busy but the lack of routine leaves him with too much time to think and if he's to be believed, he usually thinks about how much he's missing Nick.

They talk in the morning and at night and in too brief snatches when their awake times overlap during the day, and in between they blow up each other's phone with messages, pictures and links. Nick, who's failed out of relationships in the past because he has the attention span of a gnat and out of sight tends to mean out of mind for him, finds that his first instinct about everything that happens is to tell Harry --

"You'll never guess who I bumped into today," Nick says excitedly.

"Hmmm. Is it someone famous?"

"No, no, no." This is too hot gossip to sit on. " _Derek_."

There is a beat of silence on Harry's end followed by, "Who's Derek?" 

\-- even if it doesn't always work out very well. Harry is never far from his mind. 

He asks Daisy about it one day when they’re out shopping. 

"Is it possible to think about your--uh--boyfriend-type person so much it's creepy? I'm asking for a friend." Boyfriend is still a deeply unfortunate word in Nick's opinion.

Daisy raises an eyebrow at him. "I suppose that depends on the nature of the thoughts."

"Just thoughts—like, thoughts? Wish he was here, kind of thoughts. He'd look good in that shirt kind of thoughts."

"He _would_ look good in that shirt. Get it for him."

Nick adds the shirt, a lovely patterned thing, to the pile of things he's already getting. He should probably stop popping in to Topman on his way home from work.

"I don't think it's creepy that your ‘boyfriend-type person’--" Daisy rolls her eyes. "--is on your mind a lot. You never really had one before and he's on the other side of world. I suppose it would be creepy if you spent your days obsessing about stuff like who he's with and what he's doing with them."

Nick mulls over this as he resolutely ignores a lovely blue t-shirt that would look amazing on Harry and heads for the registers. "I guess I wonder what he's doing sometimes? Like, if he's eating well and stuff."

"Awww." Daisy ruffles his hair. "I think you're fine, darling. There's nothing creepy about missing someone. As long as you don't start sleeping next to one of those life-size cardboard cut-outs, I think you'll be fine."

"Aimee got me a pillowcase with his face on," Nick says mournfully.

Daisy just laughs.

\--

Nick has the stitches pulled on Friday after the show and he only sends Harry, who's soundly asleep somewhere in the Midwest, about twenty pictures of the red-pink welt of his scar. It's just so much more visible than he thought it'd be. Somehow he'd convinced himself it'd start out as a faint white line and not become one over the course of the next two to three _years_.

"You'll stop noticing it soon," the nurse, Annie, says, as she comes back into the room with some form Nick will need for his insurance or something (he might have stopped listening when first faced with The Scar) and finds him studying himself in the mirror.

Nick valiantly doesn't say anything about his massive forehead or Frankenstein, because he does realize he's being ridiculous.

"The tan will even out too," she adds, as she hands the form over. "You'll see." 

Nick doesn't whimper, but it's a close thing. He might have to wake Harry up to reassure him he can still love Nick with a bright pink thing and a pale patch of skin on his forehead. How did he even get a tan? It's been overcast nearly the entire time since he came back from New York and he usually goes beet red, flakes, and then freckles, no actual tan involved unless he has it painted on. 

"Thank you," Nick says, glancing down at the form that is indeed for his insurance. "I'm sure they invented spray tans for occasions like this."

She laughs. "You might want to wait a couple of weeks at least because the skin is still sensitive, and remember to use sun screen if you spend time outside."

"I will." Nick smiles his most winsome smile. "Thanks again."

\--

"I want to kiss it," Harry says, because he's a ridiculous child and also lovely. "I'm going to do that first thing when I come home."

"It's so bright," Nick whines, because he's still in a strop about it. "I look like Frankenstein."

"You look great. I think it gives you character. Very manly. You could tell people you got it in a fight with a bear."

"He lost his temper completely when my chest rug was thicker than his, broke a bottle, and went for my face."

Harry giggles. "Do you think they get competitive about stuff like that? Like, do big hairy dudes look at other big hairy dudes and get snide about the depth of their back hair?"

"I think they're more into comparing twink size to be honest. Okay, so your belly is hairier than mine, but have you seen my twink? Uh huh, thought so."

Harry's full on belly laugh definitely makes top ten of Nick's favourite sounds ever. There's a moment where it goes almost completely soundless and it makes Nick's heart swell ten sizes whenever he makes that happen.

"That's how I survived the fight, of course. No one can best my twink."

"Oh my god," Harry chokes out. "Like a Pokemon battle but with twinks."

Harry breaks down again and Nick is very pleased with himself indeed. Harry's been a bit low for the last couple of day and it makes Nick feel all glowy inside to hear him laugh. It's a bit ridiculous, maybe, but he really can't help it.

In the background someone shouts for Harry's attention. He's on the set of One Direction’s latest commercial (Nick thinks it's for a perfume but he really can't remember and he doesn't want to ask), and called during lull in shooting.

"Fuck, I have to go," Harry says, still half-laughing. "Lou's going to be mad I ruined my makeup."

"Don't worry, her chest rug got nothing on mine."

Harry breaks down again. Nick considers it a win.

\--

Nick goes to a party on Saturday. It's a good party, very wet, and on Sunday morning he wakes up with a new tattoo. It's not that he doesn't remember getting it because he does, with startling clarity, it's just that--well--

"It's an H," Alexa says, studying the inside of Nick's arm intently. 

"Yup."

"With a crown over it."

"Yup."

"That H doesn't look like your handwriting."

"It isn't."

Nick fiddles his wallet out and pulls out a wrinkly piece of paper, flattening it out. _Don't forget to buy eggs,_ it says. It's signed with a looping H and a small x.

Alexa laughs. She laughs and laughs and laughs. Nick carefully pulls the arm of his t-shirt down to cover his new ink and pouts at her.

"Oh my god," she says. "You actually--"

She breaks down again and Nick pouts some more. He doesn't regret it, no matter what Alexa might think. It's small, barely an inch high, and on the inside of his upper arm where it's easily covered by a t-shirt. He might have been really drunk last night, but he wasn't stupid, and he really kind of loves it.

"You know," Alexa says, sipping from her coffee. "I never figured this is what you'd be like in love." She has the soft eyes on, the corner of her bright red mouth tilted up.

Nick shrugs, looking away. He almost regrets showing her but he had to show _someone_. He's not going to tell Harry unless he spies it on Skype.

"Hey," she reaches across the table and grabs his hand, clutching it tight. "I'm really happy for you, Grim. Both of you."

"Thanks," he says, squeezing her fingers.

If he thinks too hard about the fact that he just got a fucking tattoo in Harry's handwriting, he'll vibrate out of his skin and end up a messy puddle of love and nerves on the floor. So he resolutely doesn't think about it, pulling his hand back and taking a mouthful of cooling macchiato.

"So tell me about your idea for a fashion collection. Denim, yeah?"

Alexa smiles like she knows exactly what he's doing, but she lets him get away with it and reaches for her bag. "I'll show you some sketches."

\--

On Monday after the show Nick steps into Big Boss Ben Cooper's office voluntarily for what he thinks is the first time ever. It's not that he's scared of Ben--all things considered he's a good boss--but there's something about his office that makes Nick feel like a naughty child waiting to be told off.

Ben's bent over a file as Nick raps on the doorframe, forehead folded into neat lines, and Nick almost loses his nerve before he's even crossed the threshold.

"I can come back if you're busy," he says quickly when Ben looks up and pushes his reading glasses into his hair, motioning for him to come inside.

"I'm never too busy for my breakfast host," Ben responds. "Come in, have a seat."

Nick hovers by the door, fingers going clammy around the paper clutched in his hand. "Is it okay if I close the door?"

Ben has a very generous open door policy but Nick would like for this conversation to be of a more private nature.

"Of course. You're not resigning are you?" Ben eyes the paper in Nick's hand warily.

"Don't be ridiculous," Nick says as he quietly closes the door behind him. "You'll have to pry me out of my chair when that time comes."

Ben chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Good to know."

Ben's office is very nice, spacious and impeccably decorated, the new building shine still lingering in the corners. Nick sits down on the very edge of the visitor's chair, clutching the form Ian printed out for him between both his hands, and pretends to be very interested in the abstract painting on the wall behind Ben. 

"Is that for me?" Ben motions at the paper when Nick finds himself too tongue-tied to speak, heart thumping against his ribcage.

"I-- yeah. I'd like to, uh, file a 208." Nick thumbs at the edge of the paper. "And I'd like for the name of my partner to remain confidential."

"Nick." Ben sighs, taking the form when Nick puts it down on the desk and holding it arm’s length to scan it quickly. Nick used his neatest handwriting but the letters are still pokey and looping. "You know that's not how it works."

"It's Harry." Nick has to choke it out lest it gets stuck in his throat. _Ten years younger_ , his treacherous brain whispers. _International pop sensation_. 

Ben looks up, eyebrows raising. "Styles?"

Nick nods mutely, desperately wishing he was anywhere but here. He'd rather have colonoscopy. He'd rather have _two_. He's never been big on asking for favours and this feels like one, even though he has as much right as any other scented to ask for leave according to paragraph 208. 

"I thought that was just tabloid nonsense." Ben sounds carefully neutral and not like he's about to berate Nick for his life choices, but Nick's heart still jumps.

"It was," Nick manages. "Until recently."

His face feels hot and the dread-lump has made a reappearance, squishing his lungs flat. This is awful. He should have just called in sick when the time comes. Curse Matt for insisting he do it the proper way.

Ben smiles suddenly and reaches for a pen. "I suppose congratulations are in order, then, and for God's sake, Nicholas, breathe."

Nick lets out a startled laugh as Ben signs his name on the dotted line and scribbles something in the box reserved for Harry's contact info.

"Let me make a copy for you," Ben says, turning to the ancient fax on a shelf behind his desk. Who even sends faxes these days?

Nick listens to the fax machine chug and whine as if it's on its very last leg, pulling the paper in inch by inch, and takes a couple of depth breaths, the tightness of his chest easing.

"I see you put a rather large time span," Ben remarks as the original finally reappears from the belly of the fax. "First heat?"

"Yeah." Nick picks at the hem of his shirt. "He's been a bit busy."

"Just a bit." Ben's mouth twitches.

Talking about Harry, even in overt terms, makes Nick feel disgustingly gooey inside and it must translate to his face because Ben gives him one of those soft smiles he constantly ends up on the receiving end of lately. "Let us know as soon as you can, yeah? I'll alert Dev to the fact he might have to cover for you on short notice." He takes the finished copy and hands it over. "And good luck."

Nick suppresses his urge to cackle as he carefully folds the paper and slips it into his pocket while Ben takes the original from the fax machine and puts it aside. It'll be archived in Nick's file eventually, next to his annual leave applications and employment contract. It feels very British to Nick that there's a special form to fill out for leave of absence due to wild sexual urges, a biological imperative that dates back to the dawn of man reduced to dry bureaucratic lingo.

"Thank you," Nick says once the urge to laugh has passed. "For letting me keep Harry's name out of it."

"It firmly falls under ‘extraordinary circumstances,.’ Normally I wouldn't be so forthcoming." Ben tries to make a stern face but the naughty child feeling has passed and Nick doesn't feel threatened at all.

"Of course not." Nick pushes up from the chair and straightens his shirt. "I often tell people you're a right tyrant."

"Good. Keep it that way." Nick is almost at the door when Ben speaks again. "And Nick."

Nick stops, the dread-lump making a reappearance. "Yeah?"

"If you ever decide to go public I'd appreciate a call."

Nick half turns with his hand on the doorknob. Ben looks as kind and patient as always and it goes a long way to calming Nick's nervously churning stomach. "It's--we will. Maybe not right now, but it's definitely on the horizon."

It feels huge to admit it out loud to someone who isn't in his inner circle. He's basically talked about nothing else for the last week, filling his closest friends and family in on the happenings in his life, but Ben is an outsider and his boss. It's different with him.

"Well, congratulations are definitely in order then." Ben's mouth quirks. "Nick Grimshaw settling down, never thought I'd see the day."

"Yeah, well, he's special." It's like Nick can't help baring the softest part of his underbelly whenever Harry's brought up. He can feel his face doing awful fond things.

"I think you're pretty special too." Ben smiles that soft smile again, the one that makes Nick feel funny inside because he knows it means people can see right through him. "Wouldn't have given you the Breakfast Show if I didn't."

"Thank you," Nick manages. "I should probably--there's a thing--"

"Go on." Ben waves him off, already turning back to his file. "I'm glad you stopped by."

Nick doesn't have a thing, but he does have an urgent need to lock himself in a toilet stall and breathe for a few minutes while staring at a picture of Harry's face, so that's what he does. Never let it be said he doesn't handle life with maturity and dignity.

\--

"Liar," Harry says when he calls later. "You did not spend ten minutes staring at my face locked in a toilet."

"Okay, it was more like seven, but this is what you have reduced me to, Harry Styles. I'm a sham of a man since I met you."

Harry laughs, sounding delighted. "What pic was it, then? Something nice I hope."

Nick face goes a bit hot, which is ridiculous; Harry can't even see him. "Just a picture," he says vaguely. "Of you."

"Was it rude?"

Nick sputters. "Of course it wasn't rude. You’ve never even sent me a rude picture."

"I was thinking maybe you grabbed a screencap over Facetime or something."

"Can you even do that?"

"I think so." Nick almost wishes he'd done that. It would be less embarrassing. "And I’ve sent you almost rude pictures; was it one of those?"

Nick treasures his almost rude pictures very much, but sadly it was not one of them either. "It was a picture Lou sent the other day." He sighs. "She snuck a pic while you were talking to me and you look really cute and. Yeah." Is there a good way to say 'you look like you're very much in love with me and every time I look at it my heart grows five sizes' without sounding like a complete sap? Nick would very much like to know.

In the background someone calls Harry name and he blows out an annoyed breath. "Guess I better go. Again."

"Call me later, yeah? I have this dinner at seven but I should be home around ten."

"Okay." There's a beat of silence. "Miss you."

"Miss you too. We'll find a good time to talk tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay. Love you. Bye."

"You too. Bye bye bye bye."

\--

They don't find a good time to talk the next day, or the next day or the day after that. It's hard on both of them, but it's definitely worse for Harry, whose changing body chemistry has him on a constant emotional rollercoaster.

"I just want to do something nice for him." Nick pokes at the remains of his paella with his fork and eyes Pixie across the table. He could tell him about the tattoo, he supposes, but he really wants Harry to find it in person and it's kind of scabbed over and awful right now.

"Did you tell him about the shirt yet?"

Nick shakes his head. "I'm saving it. It's only going to get worse. He's off the meds completely next week."

"Next week?" Pixie frowns. "I thought he wasn't home til the end of the month."

"Yeah, they'll still have a week of touring once he's off the Supps. I think they were worried about his heat being late otherwise. They only have four weeks off." Nick is trying really hard to not think about that because if he does he might cry.

Pixie taps her fingers against the table. "When I first met George I missed one dose of my Regs and went into heat, so you should probably make sure you have everything ready for when Harry stops taking Supps, just in case."

Nick chews on the inside of his cheek. "But you're mates."

"And you're not?"

Nick shrugs and toys with his wine glass, turning it this way and that. "I don’t know. Uh, when we—” He flushes, staring very intensely at the table. "I knotted."

"Uh huh and your scent _really_ gets him going, right?" 

"Yeah." The table is the most interesting conversational partner Nick's had in ages. If he has to look at Pixie right now he might combust. "And he doesn't scent other Alphas when he's with me."

"Yeah, you better get things ready. He's not going to last until the end of tour."

"You might be wrong."

"True." She sounds as if it's no big deal and maybe it isn't to her. It's everything to Nick. "But do it anyway, just in case."

Nick nods, but he kind of wants to squirm out of his skin. It's not that he's shy, he just feels so exposed when he talks about Harry. He can talk about his sex life all day long but a five minute conversation involving Harry and he feels like he's standing at a top of a mountain shouting _this is what will destroy me_. Except he can't quite bring himself to believe Harry would and that makes it even worse.

"So," Pixie says, probably sensing his intense desire to change the subject. "You want to do something nice for him that doesn't involve the nice thing you already did for him. How's your stripping?"

" _Pixie_."

"It's what I usually do when George's down in the dumps. You do have phone sex, right?"

"'Course we do," Nick mutters. "When there's time." And sometimes when there's not. Nick got Harry off while hiding in a broom closet on the Sweat set last week. Not his proudest moment but it was pretty hot.

"So put on a show." She sticks her tongue out. "And make time instead of trying to find time. Stolen moments are great, but you need some quality time too."

Nick purses his lips. They already have a date planned for Saturday. Nick has nothing on for once and Harry is between shows. "There is one thing I could do. Wanna go lingerie shopping tomorrow?"

Pixie laughs delightedly. "Oh, do I ever."

\--

It takes nearly four hours, _four_ , for their Saturday date to end up in the bedroom. It’s great to talk and eat and just luxuriate in each other's company, but it's also four hours of Nick being acutely aware he's wearing garters, stockings, and lacy knickers underneath his ratty joggers.

"I love it when you wear joggers," Harry remarks when Nick's gotten himself settled, back against the headboard, computer between his legs and shirt on the floor. "I'm going to make you wear them all the time when I come home."

Nick envisions a future where his fashion sense has gone down the drain but Harry spends most of his time with his hand down Nick's trousers. He can live with that.

"Can you just put your hand--oh yeah."

Nick drags his fingertips up and down the length of his dick. He adjusted himself to have it pointing at his hip earlier and it's filling out nicely under the weight of his fingers and Harry's hungry gaze. Harry really likes watching, even if he often complains he wish he could see both Nick's dick and his face, while Nick generally gets off on the sounds Harry makes and the way he bites his lip when he's close. It's not like he minds the occasional flash of Harry's hand working over his cock, but he likes seeing his face better.

It works out really well when they're doing this over Skype, because Nick can put the computer down between his legs and Harry can lie back with it propped up on his chest and they both get exactly what they want.

"You should take your trousers off," Harry says, sounding a bit breathless already. "I want to see."

"Yeah." Nick bites at his lower lip. "You–uh, have to promise not to laugh."

"Laugh at what?"

"My choice of underwear." This was the worst idea, really.

"Do they have my face on them?"

" _No_."

"Why not?" Harry actually sounds a bit petulant. Lovely boy.

"They're a bit too lacy for that."

"Lacy?" Harry sucks in a breath. "Holy shit, Nick. Are you wearing knickers?" He almost whispers the last bit as if it's too good to be true.

"Uh, yeah. And garters."

Harry actually whimpers, the picture wobbling as he shifts. "Show me."

Getting out of his joggers is a bit of a twist and struggle even though he wore them specifically for the easy access, but soon he can drop them off the bed and spread his legs around the computer again. 

"Fuck." Harry's voice sounds raw with desire and his eyes are glued to the screen. "You look--would you--could you just put your hand again...Yeah, like that. Holy hell." 

Harry goes full Northern when he's turned on, washing away the flatness of weeks spent in the U.S. Nick would like to tease him about it but he's got his hand on his dick and Harry's face is a lot to deal with right now. Nick shifts his hand, rubbing his palm down the length of his dick and Harry lets out a shaky breath, mouth open and lips wet.

"Let me see." Harry licks his lips, leaning forward. 

Nick lifts his hand revealing the obvious line of his cock, struggling against its constraints of silk and lace. He reaches down to cup his balls, squeezing lightly. It's a bit of a weird angle, holding his wrist out of the way of Harry's hungry gaze, but it's worth it for the way Harry chews on his lower lip, dark eyed and breathless. 

The knickers are almost entirely see through in the front, made up of delicate white lace with a subtle floral pattern that turns into smooth white silk over his hips. White is not really Nick's best colour, but Pixie argued that it'd offer Harry the best view with the webcam and he's glad he went with her advice. The garter is fairly simple, just a slip of silk and frill around his waist holding up stockings hugging his thighs.

"You look..." Harry licks his lip. " _Fuck_.Will you wear that when I come home? I want to touch." 

"Of course."

The breathless excitement in Harry's voice is enough to have him throbbing. 

"What do you want, love?"

"I want to watch you come." Harry's eyes are huge and dark, cheeks flushed and mouth open.

"You touching yourself yet?" Nick asks, making a show of pulling the knickers down just enough to free his cock.

"A bit."

"Keep it like that, yeah? I want to see you too."

Harry nods eagerly. He likes it when Nick tells him not to come. Sometimes when they're just on the phone Nick will make him wait for ages, but today is not one of those days; they're both too revved up already.

Nick forms a fist around his dick, and Harry licks his lips in anticipation, letting out a shaky breath. The first couple of times they did this seeing the miniature image of himself jerking off in the corner of the screen weirded Nick out, but now he uses it to put on a proper show guided by Harry's shifting expressions.

Nick goes slow at first, long, luxurious strokes that make the extra skin around the base of his dick fold and stretch in turns. Nick has an Alpha friend who calls shagging without knotting “turkey-necking it” and he has a point. The extra skin isn't red and terrifying like an actual turkey neck, but even when Nick's fully erect there's some wrinkling going on.

"You're getting wet." Harry licks his lips, like he wants to taste, and Nick shivers, spreading the moisture out with his thumb.

"Always get wet for you." Even over the phone, which is just ridiculous.

"Want to taste you," Harry says breathlessly. "Suck you."

Nick speeds up his strokes, watching his own image in the corner of the screen. It looks pretty good with his cock arching from a nest of lace, the pale colour a stark contrast to his dark pubes and the flush of his skin.

"Look so bloody hot." Harry's breath hitches. "Want you to come for me."

"Hands off and I'll come for you."

"Nooo," Harry whines, cheeks rosy and eyes dark.

"You're too close, love. I want to see, remember."

"Fuck." Harry scrunches his face up and for a moment Nick thinks he came, but then his expression smooths out and he sucks in a breath. "Sorry." He relaxes even further, holding his hands up so that Nick can see them. "That was close." He bites at his lower lip, cheeks darkening a shade. "It's really hot that you can tell when I'm close."

Nick tries to laugh, but his orgasm is fast approaching and it comes out as a groan.

"Yeah," Harry says inanely. "Come on."

Nick's hand flies over his dick while he digs his free hand into the bedspread, trying to contain the truly ridiculous noises that want to come out.

"Now," Harry says and Nick comes, making a whole lot of those truly ridiculous noises while he streaks the garter belt and his own stomach.

"Fuck," Nick pants, slowing his strokes to a slow petting. "That was intense."  
He scoots down and lifts the computer onto his chest, giving Harry a lazy smile. "Hiya."

Harry smiles back. " _Hiiii_."

He looks so lovely that's the thing, and so turned on. "Want to come?"

Harry nods eagerly.

"Okay, show me first.

Harry fumbles the laptop around and tilts the screen a bit. His dick is gorgeous and rock hard, dripping a puddle of precome onto his stomach. Nick wants to suck it so much his mouth waters.

"Looking good, love. Touch yourself for me."

Harry doesn't have to be asked twice, getting his hand around his dick and setting a quick sloppy rhythm that prompts another trickle of precome. Okay, so maybe it is pretty hot to watch. Nick gets it now. Harry's stomach tenses with every down stroke, as if his hips want to lift off the bed but he's scared of dislodging the laptop, and his hand is a blur over his cock. 

"Come on, darling," Nick murmurs, licking his lips. "Come for me."

"Okay," Harry breathes, and then he does, streaking his stomach and probably the keyboard too, arching up so suddenly the laptop slips off his chest and lands on the bed next to him. "Sorry," he pants and after some fumbling his face comes back into view, looking flushed and sheepish.

"Never apologize for a good orgasm," Nick says wisely. Good life philosophy, that, he reckons.

Harry smiles, looking a bit wistful, and reaches out to touch the screen. "I really miss you," he says lowly. "I know it's only been a couple of weeks but--yeah." He sighs, pulling his hand back. "Do you think it'll get easier? Like in the future?"

"I hope so." Nick smiles. "I think so." It has to, or Nick will give up his professional life dreams to become a kept man Harry's worth it.

Harry sighs again, staring very intently at Nick's face. It's not the best angle for Nick, this, propped up against the headboard with the laptop on his chest, there's definitely a bit of double-chin going on, but Harry doesn't look like he minds.

"You have such a lovely mouth," Harry says, touching the screen again. "It's so beautiful."

That's pretty rich, Nick thinks, coming from _Harry_ , who has a mouth on him that probably makes angels weep. He doesn't protest though, even though he greatly appreciates the annoyed huff Harry lets out when he belittles himself, he just smiles and says, "Yours's pretty good too." 

Harry ignores him, the picture wobbling as he moves onto his side and sort of curls up around the computer. "I want to put my head on your chest and put my hand in your knickers, but not in a sexy way. Is that weird?"

"I'm not sure my dick would understand it was a platonic touch, but you can put your hand in my pants anytime. Blanket permission."

"I'd wank you off first and then hold you when you're soft. I really want to."

"You can hold all my soft bits, promise. I have a couple of stomach rolls clamouring for attention too."

"Shut up. Your stomach's lovely. I do want to hold that too." Harry smiles dreamily, eyelids drooping. He was up early, eager for their Skype date, and it looks like he's about ready for a nap.

"You falling asleep on me?" Nick can't help the fondness fairly dripping from his voice. Harry looks adorable.

"Don't wanna," Harry mumbles, but he keeps blinking like his eyes won't stay open.

"You can call me again when you wake up. I'm home all day." Nick wants him to. He's already looking forward to it.

"Okay." Harry forces his eyes open, fumbling behind him for a corner of the comforter. "Talk to me until I fall asleep?"

Nick reaches out to touch the screen with the tip of a finger while Harry looks away, stroking the line of his jaw. "Of course, love. Anytime."

\--

The dread-lump makes a reappearance on Sunday, and Nick spends the morning curled up on the sofa hugging a pillow with the telly on for company. Around noon he instagrams a pic of himself pouting at the camera with his hair in wild disarray and captions it _In a state. Send help._ and twenty minutes later Daisy shows up.

"What are you even doing?" she asks, raising her eyebrows at him. She looks amazing, of course, in high-waisted jeans and a checkered blouse. Nick is still in his pajamas, unshaved, hugging a pillow.

"Moping," he says, trying to make it sound like a dignified activity. He probably fails.

"Aww, babes." She sits down on the edge of the couch and Nick throws the pillow aside to clutch at her waist. Daisy's great. "Did you have a good date yesterday?" Daisy's fingers find their way into Nick's hair, tugging lightly.

"The best." Nick curls closer, pressing his face against her thigh. "It was great." Daisy's jeans are scratchy against his nose, but she smells really good, like spring flowers and power.

"And now you miss him." It isn't even a question. Nick is offended.

"It's not always about Harry," he says tartly, or as tartly as one can with their lips mashed against someone's leg.

Daisy snorts. "True for most of us, but rarely for you." She tugs at his hair just right. "It's okay to miss him, you know. We talked about this."

Nick makes a vaguely affirmative noise, pulling lightly at her blouse.

"I was heading to the big shop when I saw your distress call. Want to tag along?"

Nick doesn't want to go to the big shop. He can't think of anything he wants less, but he hasn't made any headway preparing for Harry coming home, and he also doesn't want to spend the rest of the day moping on the couch, so he makes another vaguely affirmative noise, clutching harder at all parts of her he can reach.

"Come on then," she says, ruffling his hair. "Up you go. Put your clothes on like a big boy and I might give you a treat."

The treat turns out to be a spinach-heavy smoothie that she somehow whipped together from the meagre contents of Nick's fridge and a shopping list he has no intention of following. Who needs that much celery, really, but it's a nice enough gesture that his eyes feel a bit prickly.

He fishes out his phone and texts Harry: _Nearly cried because daise made me a shopping list. I'm sure it's your fault somehow. *kissy face*_ before he finishes his smoothie and follows Daisy to her car. He can do this.

\--

Miraculously, by Tuesday, Nick has everything ready for Harry's heat. The kitchen is stocked, the closet is stacked with disposable mattress covers and enough sheets to last until new year’s, and there are lube and condoms aplenty should they need them. He even bought a second set of lingerie, complete with a silk negligee and a corset that both look ridiculous on him, but he figures Harry will get a kick out of them.

It's weird to prepare for something that still feels like a mythical event, Nick thinks. He's known Harry as scentless for so long that he can't even imagine what having him scented will be like and even less what it'll be like when he's scented and in heat. It's been nearly three years since Nick last fucked someone in heat and that was a guy he barely knew. This is Harry. This is _everything_. He's a bit nervous if he's honest with himself.

"Do you think I should stack up on candles? Everyone likes a good candle when they're in heat, right?"

Sadie blinks at him, upside down, because she's doing yoga and being too calm for Nick's frazzled nerves. "Candles?"

"He likes a scented candle, Harry. I do too. We really should have candles, right? I have candles but maybe we should have more." He sucks in a breath.

"Trust me, darling, you won't care about candles." Sadie flexes her legs in a complicated way and starts lowering them toward the floor.

They could care about candles. They're a very candle loving sort. Nick's offended. "We might."

Sadie slowly straightens up into standing position and gives him a look. "You won't."

Nick mind changes track. "Maybe he wants a dressing gown. A dressing gown could be nice, yeah? He doesn't have one at my house, but he does steal mine sometimes. I should get him one."

Sadie folds forward, back straight. "You do that, love. Get him a real nice one."

"You're not coming?" Dressing gowns are important business; Nick can't just pick one on his own.

She looks up. "No."

Nick huffs. "Fine, be that way. See if I care."

Sadie is now fully folded, nose nearly at her ankles. "Bye, Grim," she says serenely.

Nick and Collette get Harry a fantastic dressing gown, dark blue and wonderfully fluffy. Nick figures he'll be the one wearing it while Harry swans around in Nick ratty old one, he's wise to Harry's ways by now.

"So you got him a dressing gown so that he can use yours?" Collette frowns. "Why not just get a new one for yourself?"

"It's a present." Nick rolls his eyes.

"That he doesn't want because he wants yours."

"I can't give him my ratty old one! That would be a terrible present."

Collette opens her mouth and then closes it again, reaching out to pat his shoulder. "Okay, hun."

Everyone in Nick's life is so patronising.

When Nick gets home he hangs Harry's dressing gown next to his in the bathroom and takes a moment to appreciate how good it looks with two hanging there instead of just one. He takes a picture and sends it to Harry, captioning it _I got you a dressing gown._

Harry replies within seconds even though he's supposedly doing press stuff. _It's lovely. (I'm still going to wear yours.) *kissy face*_

Nick grins, feeling all glowy inside because he's turning into a ridiculous human. _Figured you would. *kissy face* *heart*_

It can't be proper, Nick thinks, to feel this much. It's very un-British of him. He best not tell anyone or he'll get booted out of the country.

\--

On Wednesday Nick endures a doctor's visit and an STD check up as he refills his prescription for Insalta, his contraceptives. Nick's doctor is a kind man in his mid-sixties and it's not Nick's proudest moment when he pulls his jeans down to reveal the Harry Styles boxer briefs he made Collette buy for him.

"Nice pants," Dr Halloman says, and Nick spends so long debating whether to say "thanks, it's my boyfriend" or just "thanks" that he ends up just humming vaguely and blushing a bit.

Later he IGs a pic from the toilet at the doctors that shows off his embarrassing underwear and captions it: _When it's laundry day and you forget you have a doctor's appointment *laughing emoji* @harrystyles_ He's gotten at least three emails from Lena urging them to be cute on social media but they talk so often that tweeting at Harry, who mostly tweets while Nick is asleep, seems forced. He figures Harry will get a kick out of this one being out in public, though, and Nick's package looks great cupped by Harry's face.

"I want to have my actual face on your dick," Harry says when he calls later. "Do you think I should reply to that?"

"Not to tell people you wish it was your actual face," Nick responds, holding the phone with his shoulder while he fumbles with his house keys.

"Too late."

Nick pauses. "You didn't."

Harry laughs. "Nah, I just complimented you on your choice of underwear."

"It was _embarrassing_. Dr. Halloman is like a hundred years old. He could have had a heart attack."

"You better wear them when I come home. I want to be smug in person and pretend to make out with myself."

It's a bit too easy to imagine. Harry on his knees, face to face with his fabric self, leaning in to-- "Ugh. You're a horrible boyfriend." Nick shoulders the door open and stumbles into the hallway. "Don't start things you don't have time to finish."

"I can finish it later, though. You'll just have to hold the thought."

"You won't have time for _hours_." Nick's aware that he's whining, but it’s a very nice thought that he'd like to explore in full with his hand down his pants.

"Good things come to those who wait," Harry says blithely.

He really is a terrible boyfriend.

\--

"I just took my last Supp," Harry says when he calls on Saturday morning, or well, morning for him anyway; it's more like afternoon for Nick. "Put out a strip of contraceptives for tomorrow and threw the jar away. It feels weird."

"Okay weird or weird weird?" Nick asks, sidestepping one of the ever-present puddles on the pavement. Harry had better bring the sun with him when he comes home; Nick is wilting.

"Okay weird, I think. Nervously excited weird."

"Do you think I should get a spray tan? I mean, that's great. I'm calm as a cucumber, me. I should get a tan right? You're all sun fresh and incredibly fit...Maybe I should go to the gym."

Harry laughs. "Don't get a spray tan and only go to the gym if you want to."

"I never want to. I force myself because I don't want to look like a potato. You wouldn't want to date a potato."

"I'd date a crisp."

"You're a crisp. I'm more like a mash."

"I love mash, and you, so that works out fine."

There's a photographer at the end of Nick's street, shamelessly taking pictures. Nick ignores him, suppressing the urge to fix his hair. There's almost always someone outside these days, standing back at a respectable distance, but with their telephoto lenses pointed at his house. 

"Still there?" Harry asks.

"Yeah. There's a pap on my street again."

"Oh."

"Maybe we should camp out at your house instead," Nick says, as he reaches his building and turns down the stairs. "There'll be no end to the talk if we're papped walking into my flat and don't make it out for days."

"No." Nick can easily imagine the stubborn jut of Harry's chin. "I don't care if they talk. They already do."

Nick fumbles his keys out and gets the door open. "Your house is pretty nice. Private garden, big bed--"

"No."

"One of your bathrooms is three times the size of mine and you have an actual kitchen, not a cupboard masquerading as one."

" _No_."

Nick kicks off his shoes in the hall and shrugs out of his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack haphazardly. "My flat is too accessible. We'll have fans beating down the door."

"Did Lena put you up to this? Because I already told her no. I. Want. To have. My first. Heat. At home. Not in a house where I've spent maybe fifteen nights in total. In my _home_."

Nick has to grab hold of the coat rack to keep upright while his insides do a quick stop-drop-and-roll that fan the flames in his heart.

"Babe," he says dumbly. He might be tearing up a bit.

"I've been dreaming about this for two years. I'm not going to miss out on it because people talk."

"Okay." Nick's aware his voice has gone all soft and rough around the edges but he can't actually help it. He lets go of the coat rack to press a hand to his eyes, he's not going to cry, he's not. "You're welcome to come home any day, King Harold. I kind of miss you a lot."

"I still have the sign, you know. It's propped up on the nightstand right now."

"I know." Harry instagrammed it last week and caused an internet meltdown that was slightly worse than the one Nick brought on instagramming his underwear. Their lives are strange.

Harry sighs. "I miss you too. But like... only a week now. And don't worry about people beating down the door. Lena already promised to arrange for security, front and back. It'll be fine."

Nick doesn't really think having bodyguards standing outside your house so that you can shag in peace counts as fine, but he'd take a whole lot more than that to make Harry happy. Harry who counts Nick's one bedroom flat as home when he has the entire world at his feet. Harry who picked Nick when he could have anyone.

"Yeah," Nick says roughly, scrubbing at his eyes. "Everything is ready. You just have to come home."

"I will," Harry says. "Only five more shows and then I'm getting on the first plane home."

"Can't wait." Nick takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. He needs to call someone to come over, his flat is too empty. "I really can't wait."

\--

When Nick wakes up on Sunday morning Collette is snoring in his bed and he has about fifty-five messages from Harry, who unearthed Nick's cleverly hidden present, the shirt, overnight and had some emotions about it.

The messages range from _I LVE YUO SO MYCH!!!!_ to _Didn't mean to ruin a surprise. :(_ but the one Nick can't look away from is a picture of Harry, nearly entirely tucked into the shirt with his arms wrapped around his shins. He's red-eyed and tear flushed, but he's smiling so brightly it makes Nick's heart hurt. _Had a bit of a cry,_ the caption says. _Thank you so much._

The last message, sent just an hour before, says: _I smell like you again. Love you so much._

_Love you too._ Nick sends. _Don't worry, you didn't ruin anything. Meant for you to find it. xxx_

Then he spends another five minutes staring at the picture before texting Pixie: _You have the best ideas!!!!_

Pixie answers while he's in the kitchen making instant coffee, resolutely ignoring the glare of the shiny chrome monstrosity of a coffeemaker he never bothered to learn how to use.

_Of course I do. Listen to me always!!!! *kissy face*_

He takes the coffee with him to the sofa, tucks his feet in underneath himself and spends a few minutes catching up on what happened in the world overnight before he bringing his new favourite picture up again, getting lost in the depth of Harry's dimples.

"Awww, that's adorable." Collette leans over the back of the couch and gives Nick's stubbly cheek a kiss. "Is there any hot water left?"

Nick pretends that she didn't just give him a heart attack and lowers the phone. "I put a mug out for you but you might have to reheat the water."

"Ta."

She disappears into the kitchen and Nick lifts the phone again, opening the Daily Mail website instead. It looks like the pap pics from yesterday made it to print, so he scans the article quickly. It calls him dapper and then points out that the crystal around his neck matches the one Harry's been wearing lately, and also pulls out the latest pics of Harry wearing the plaid shirt Nick had on during the concert in New York. There's a little compilation at the bottom of all the times Harry been caught wearing it in the last three weeks and, well, it's possible someone should have staged an intervention.

It's barely a secret at this point; anyone who wants to draw the right conclusions already have and the people who don't want to probably wouldn't believe it even if they wrote it across the sky. Harry hasn't officially come out, and he hasn't sat down for an interview and explicitly stated he's bisexual, but tumblr is drowning in soundclips of Harry alluding to the fact that he doesn't exclusive fancy women and that, maybe, he already has someone in his life.

Nick tries to not mention on Harry on the radio because he knows he shows his whole hand whenever he does, but One Direction are huge, not talking about them is impossible, and he can tell from the way Matt rolls his eyes that he does a piss poor job of keeping the fondness out of his voice. The press asks him about Harry constantly and the more vague his answers get, the bigger the headlines are, and through it all their reps returns with "no comment" whenever they're asked for a statement.

Harry coming home will drive the speculation into overdrive and the plan is that eventually they’ll issue a short statement through their reps that, yes, they are together. It won't end there, of course; it's merely the beginning, but Nick truly can't wait. Fuck the rest of the world if they can't handle it. Fuck the lot of them. For the first time of his life Nick's going to stick his heart out in public and he's excited to do it.

Collette comes back with a cup of tea and sinks down on the couch next to him, putting her head on his shoulder. Nick quickly closes down the Daily Mail, which only brings up the other picture again. He can't win.

"Is that your shirt?" Collette asks.

"Yeah."

"He looks like he's been crying." Collette reaches out to touch the screen with the tip of a finger.

"Happy crying," Nick says and goddamn he sounds choked up himself. "He--there was still some of my scent on the shirt. He likes that."

Collette curls her hand around his wrist and leans in to kiss his cheek again. "I'm really happy for you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah." Nick swallows around the lump in his throat. "I know."

\--

In the afternoon Nick takes Collette out for a Sunday roast at the pub. He toyed with the idea of cooking one, but it seemed like too much effort for just the two of them, and everyone else is busy.

They've just finished the main course when Nick's phone starts ringing beside his plate. It makes an unholy amount of noise between the generic ringtone and the way the edge of it vibrates against his plate, drawing looks from nearby tables. The number is hidden but he already knows it'll be Harry; he's in San Diego at the moment and usually wakes up around this time.

"Sorry," he says to no one in particular, grabbing for it. "Have to answer this."

Collette waves her hand at him and reaches for her own phone, clearly unbothered.

"Hiya," he says lowly, curling in on himself.

"Nick." Harry's voice is too reedy, sending Nick into a state of instant panic. "Nick, I think it's starting."

"Fuck," Nick says, a little too loudly. He looks up to find Collette staring at him with a furrow of concern between her brows. "I'll be back in a second," he says quickly and lowers the phone. "I have to go." He fishes his wallet out and throws it to Collette. "Can you pay?"

"Of course," she says. "Is everything okay?"

"It's.. uh...--my friend. He's not feeling well." Nick tries to eyeball Collette into understanding but it's probably a lost cause. She's not great with nuance.

Collette blinks like she's trying really hard to put it together. "Your friend...who's in America?"

"Yes, that's the one." Hopefully they're thinking of the same person.

"Oh." Understanding dawns on Collette's face. " _Oh_."

"Exactly." Nick grabs his jacket off the back of the chair. "Catch up with me, yeah?"

"As soon as I've paid." 

Nick walks around the table and gives her cheek a kiss. "Thanks, love, you're a doll."

"Anytime."

Nick gives her one last smile and turns for the door, lifting the phone to his ear again. "Talk to me, love."

"I don't know." Harry still sounds breathless and scared. "I woke up in the middle of the night feeling really sore and I thought I was just coming down with something but this morning I feel--I just want to be with you right now. I want to be with you so much." His voice breaks a little over the last word and Nick's stomach ties itself into an unhappy knot.

"I'll get on the next plane if you need me to," he vows. He doesn't care if he ends up losing his job. Nothing is more important than Harry right now.

"No," Harry says mulishly. "If it's happening I'm coming home."

"You can't get on a flight in that state, love. They won't let you on the plane."

"I'll figure something out. Jeff's family has a plane with an all beta crew."

Nick resolutely likes Jeff because he's good friend to Harry, but Jeff also happens to be an Alpha and the thought of him being around Harry when he's in heat makes Nick's teeth itch.

"Haz--"

"I'm coming _home_."

Well, that's that then. Nick can very easily picture the stubborn jut of Harry's chin. "Okay," he says meekly.

"Fuck." Harry lets out a shaky breath. "How do I know if it's the real deal?"

"You'll know soon enough," Nick says. "There'll be no mistaking it once it sets in for real."

"But I want to know now." Harry sounds like he might cry.

"Okay." Nick drags a hand through his hair, messing it up. "Liam!" He stops looking around quickly but no one seems to be paying him any attention. "Liam will know. He'll be able to smell it on you."

"Okay." Harry sucks in a breath. "Okay. I'll go find him."

"Be careful."

Harry huffs. "It's just Liam."

"Yeah, but--Just be careful. I love you."

Harry sniffs. "Love you too. Call you back soon."

Nick's almost home, but suddenly he doesn't want to go in. It's not raining for once and the air holds the promise of a summer yet to come even if the sky is overcast. Somehow he doesn't that doubt Harry is right. It's actually happening and it's happening now. Harry is going into heat. Harry is coming _home_.

He can't stop the giant grin spreading over his face even with the nerves still making his stomach churn. He wants to tell someone. He wants to tell everyone. He wants to write it across the sky in neon letters. He suddenly understand that moment in a musical when people burst into a choreographed dance routine and sing their feelings, because just walking isn't enough, he wants to swing from the lampposts and shout at the sky.

His phone starts ringing again and he lifts it to his ear. "It's happening," Harry says simply. He sounds a lot of things all at once. "Liam's sure of it."

Nick exhales, smiling madly at a random passerby. "Well, I guess you better come home then." 

\--

It's not the easiest feat, even with friends in high places, to arrange a transatlantic flight for an Omega in heat on short notice, but just after midnight UK time Harry's borrowed jet takes off from a private airstrip outside San Diego. By then news of Harry's departure from tour due to "a medical condition" has already dropped on the internet like a bomb and Nick gets about a two tweets every second asking if Harry's okay.

He falls asleep with his phone still in hand and wakes up at 5:30am when Harry calls from New York where they've landed to refuel.

"How are you holding up, love?" Nick asks.

"'m okay." He doesn't sound okay. He sounds like he's trying to be brave but failing.

Nick knows the initial symptoms of a heat are not unlike those of a flu, but with added sexual urges: muscle pain, alternating sweats and chills, nausea, and dizzy spells, in combination with a heightened sensitivity and for males prolonged erections and increased secretion. The first heat is always more intense and since most people suffer through it without the true relief of an Alpha partner, it's quite an uncomfortable affair. Harry, at least, won't have to suffer for long.

"I'll take such good care of you," Nick wows for maybe the hundredth time since yesterday. "Promise."

"I know." Harry's breath hitches. "I just want to be home already."

"Not too long now."

"And you'll wait for me at the airport? You promised."

Nick did promise, when Harry had his first heat flash and wouldn't stop crying. He'd have promised to take down the moon if Harry asked him to.

"I mean, you don't have to." Harry swallows. "I know you only promised because I was a bit hysterical but I really like it if you were there."

"I'll be there. I want to come." It's probably dumb as hell but, Christ, Nick has waited long enough.

"Good. That's good." Harry lets out a shaky breath. "I have to go. We're about to take off."

"Safe flight, darling. I love you."

"Love you too."

Nick disconnects the call and rolls over on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He's running late for work and should be in the shower already, but he can't make himself move. Harry's coming home. Harry is coming _home_. 

\--

They're about fifteen minutes early to the airport and Nick spends those fifteen minutes telling himself he's going to stay in the car and not give any possible enterprising paparazzi tabloid fuel but then Michel, the driver, turns around to point out the approaching jet and Nick is out of the car like a shot, sucking in damp exhaust-tinted air in huge gulps while his heart beats Harry Harry Harry Harry Harry.

He doesn't stray far from the car, watching the streamlined jet taxi from a safe distance. Mauled by jet would not be a cute way to die and Harry would never forgive him. The airport personnel waiting with a set of rolling stairs and other paraphernalia wisely don't try to make him go back inside. They just hand him a safety vest that can be seen from space and order him to stay behind a yellow line on the ground until the jet has been secured.

Once the stairs are in place and the door comes open, he can't help but shuffle forward, stepping over the yellow line, and then closer still. 

An air stewardess in an impeccable blue uniform sticks her head out and exchanges a few words with the ground crew that are lost to the wind and the roar of another landing aircraft. Nick steps closer still. To anyone with a telephoto lens, he'll be an easy target in his bright yellow vest and skinny jeans, but he's past the point of caring.

The stewardess disappears inside and then finally _finally_ Harry steps out on the stairs. He stops for a moment blinking against the bleak light of day as he scans the ground. He has the King Harold sign clutched in one hand and he's dressed in the least Harry-like outfit Nick's ever seen, an oversized hoodie over black sweats, his hair is hidden under an orange beanie that used to be Nick's.

Nick takes another step forward and realises his legs are shaking. How mad. It's as mad as the way he's opening his arms for a hug even though Harry is still so far away. He wants to shout to get Harry's attention but he can't get his mouth to work properly and then he doesn't have to because Harry spots him and propels himself down the stairs in a mad half run, half fall that has him stumbling onto the tarmac, waving his arms for balance.

The wind flutters the sign and makes Harry's hoodie billow around his body, blowing him up to comical proportions before it glues itself to his front with the way he surges forward, running for Nick's waiting embrace.

Nick meets him halfway, literally sweeping him off his feet with the strength of his embrace, and Harry's not slow to take advantage, wrapping his arms around Nick's neck and his legs around Nick's waist in a determined monkey cling. The poster hits Nick in the back of the head and he has to take a couple of steps on his wobbly jelly legs to steady them but he's not letting go for _anything_.

"I'm so happy you're home." Nick tucks his face into Harry's neck and just breathes him in. He can't make Harry's Omega scent out over the overpowering smell of his heat, but he still smells like _Harry_ and that's more than enough.

"Nick," Harry says, just that, but the tone of his voice makes Nick's eyes prickle. He's never heard his name sound so precious or hold such weight. 

They must paint a ridiculous picture given Harry's cling, the sign, and Nick's yellow vest. If there are any photographers in the vicinity, they're sure getting their money's worth. Nick couldn't care less. Harry's _home_ , and for the first time since Nick left New York he feels complete. 

Cal, who has Harry's bag slung over his shoulder, and a couple of management types Nick vaguely remembers from the meeting in New York get off the plane behind Harry. 

"Mr Grimshaw," the older of the two management men says, inclining his head slightly, and Nick tightens his grip on Harry just in case he gets ideas. He's a beta, of course, but he looks like he could take Nick in a fight. "I assume you have made all the necessary arrangements, but if there's anything you need don't hesitate to call. Mr Aurand has one of my business cards."

"Call me Nick," Nick says. "And thank you."

Management man looks at Harry and his face softens in a way Nick is all too familiar with. "Have a pleasant break, Harry," he says kindly and Nick has to suppress an urge to cackle out loud. "Give us a call when you feel better and we'll schedule that thing we were talking about."

Harry doesn't answer because he's too busy mouthing at Nick's neck in a highly distracting way, so Nick answers for him. "I'll remind him."

Management man smiles. "Thank you, Nick."

Thankfully, that ends the impromptu business meeting, and the management man returns to his companion by the plane.

Cal walks over to them. "Let's get you home," he says, which is frankly the best thing Nick's heard all day.

Nick carries Harry to the car partly because Harry doesn't want to let go, but mostly because Nick doesn't to either. He wants to carry Harry around forever. The weight of him is so wonderfully real and he's also good protection against the wind that's whipping around their legs.

He can't get into the car still holding Harry, though, no matter how much he might want to, and he should really return the vest.

"Come on, love," he says, easing his hold slightly. "Down you go."

"No." Harry clings more determinedly, nearly cutting off Nick's air supply.

"It's just for a minute," Nick tries. "I have to return my fetching safety gear."

Harry makes a wounded noise, but he does drop his feet back to the ground, taking the smallest possible step back. Nick barely has time to get the vest over his head before Harry burrows back into his chest, wrapping his arms like a steel clamp around Nick's waist.

Nick holds the vest out to Cal with a 'what can you do' look. "Could you...."

"Shh. " Harry covers Nick's mouth with his fingers. "Hold me."

Cal chuckles and takes the vest so that Nick can wrap his arms around Harry's back as ordered. Pressed together like this Nick can clearly feel how hard Harry is and his sudden surge of desire is dizzying in its intensity.

Nick fumbles the car door open while Michel helps Cal put Harry's bag in the trunk. "Come on, darling," he says. "Let's go home."

\--

Nick knows there’s a lot of bullshit misinformation out there about how Alphas can't control themselves around an Omega in heat. While Alphas can't keep their body from reacting to the scent, the so called "uncontrollable desire" ends there. Nick is no less able to control himself around an Omega in heat than he is in a dressing room full of fit half-clad men. Unlike certain kinds of literature will have you think, he's not actually "drunk on desire."

The same goes for Omegas. Their body might be craving the touch of an Alpha, but that doesn't mean they're intellectually impaired. It's always a choice. Plenty of Omegas choose to spend their heats in solitude or with a beta, because biological imperative makes them crave an Alpha but they don't _need_ one.

It's a bit different, Nick realises, when you're utterly completely head-over-heels in love. By the time they pull up on Nick's street, Nick's literally sitting on his own hands to keep from touching Harry. Once he starts he doesn't think he'll be able to stop, and Cal and Michel did nothing to deserve that kind of trauma.

Harry, the traitor, is fast asleep curled up to Nick's side. He fell asleep five seconds after they got into the car and has been snoring softly with his head on Nick's shoulder ever since. Nick might have snapped a picture or two, but Harry's scent had filled up the confined space of the car and made him feel too weak in the head to be trusted with his hands flapping about. He’d already caught himself stroking Harry's thigh twice without even being aware he moved his hand.

Michel stops the car in the middle of the road, alongside a black sedan parked at the kerb next to Nick's flat. There's a man in the front seat watching them, Nick assumes that's their security.

"This is you I believe," Michel says, smiling at Nick in the rear view mirror.

"Yeah." Nick nods vigorously to make up for the fact that he sounds like a choked frog. Harry wakes up with a start, blinking rapidly.

"I fell asleep." Harry frowns and rubs at his eyes clumsily and Nick wants to die from how adorable he is. Harry's sleep-flushed cheeks would be listed as his cause of death.

" _Oh_." Harry's eyes widen when he looks out the window and realises where they are. "We're home." He lights up in a way that makes Nick's heart skip several beats. "Keys!"

There's nothing erotic about the pat down Nick receives, except it's Harry and he smells divine, but it still makes Nick blush a bit when he catches Cal watching them with an amused smile.

Then Harry finds the keys, kisses Nick's cheek and says: "I'm taking a shower," before he grabs his sign and disappears out the door like a shot.

Cal laughs. "Someone's happy to be home."

"Yeah." Nick still feels a bit dazed, but the cool air coming in through the door Harry left open in his wake does wonders to clear his head. "Looks like it."

"I'll get the bag," Michel says.

”Thank you.” Nick scrubs a hand over his face, running it into his quiff to pull it back from his face, while he undoes his belt with the other. 

"Have a good break," Cal half turns to face him, smile turning wicked for a second, which is not something Nick will think about or acknowledge. Cal's wife is an Omega; he certainly has an idea about what happens next even if he's a beta himself.

"Thanks for everything.” Nick reaches across the seat to squeeze Cal’s shoulder.

"Not a problem,” Cal says simply. It's comforting to know that Harry prompts the same loyalty bordering on lunacy in all his friends. Nick is not completely alone in his utter devotion. 

"Have a safe flight back,” Nick says, scooting across the seat to the door. ”I’ll remind Harry to call you when he feels up to it.”

”Thank you.”

Michel is waiting beside the car with Harry's bag and Nick slips it onto his shoulder. "Thank you," he says.

"You're welcome. Don't hesitate to call if you need a ride somewhere." He hands Nick a business card that Nick pockets with the one he got off of Cal earlier.

"I won't," Nick promises, groaning internally when he realises that the security guard has stepped out of his car as well. He just wants to go inside.

It's another ten minutes of awkward small talk and yet another business card before Nick can finally, _finally_ walk down the stairs to his flat. Harry left the front door ajar with the keys still in the lock, so Nick pulls them out before he steps inside and locks the door behind him.

The shower is still running in the bathroom, so Nick takes his time toeing his boots off and putting both their shoes to the side, as Harry left his in a pile on the floor, before he moves deeper into the flat. Harry left the bathroom door ajar, so Nick pokes his head in to make sure Harry’s still upright before he dumps Harry's bag in a corner of the bedroom and puts his collection of business cards down on the nightstand with his phone. He doesn't think he'll need them, but if he throws them away he surely will, and he doesn't fancy rooting through the rubbish bin while an army of rabid fangirls and paparazzi tries to beat down the front door. Not that he thinks that will happen. Probably.

He curses his own earlier efficiency. Everything is ready down to the bottles of water on the nightstand, so there’s nothing for him to do to calm his frazzled nerves. He can’t even make Harry a sandwich because Cal had said he’d eaten just before landing. He’ll likely not want anything anyway since heats tend to direct appetite elsewhere. Nick removes his socks instead and wriggles his toes against the bedside rug, trying to decide if going for his jeans as well will make him feel ridiculous.

Then the shower cuts off and the resulting rush of anticipation makes him incapable of doing anything but wait, eyes trained on the bathroom door. It takes a minute but then the door opens and Harry steps out. His hair is a wet curly mess over the crown of his head, still dripping, and predictably he's wearing Nick's dressing gown loosely belted around his waist.

"I got you your own dressing gown, you know," Nick says. "It's very fancy."

"Told you I'd wear this." Harry pads closer, toes curling endearingly against the floor. 

"Yeah, you did." Nick should probably sound a little less happy about it, but it's hard to manage.

"Oh, I'm getting your floor wet." Harry looks down as if he's only now realising that stepping out of the shower still dripping would have that effect.

"I don't care," Nick says, futilely stretching a hand out toward Harry. "Just come here."

Harry stays stubbornly rooted to the spot, colour blooming across his cheeks. "It might not just be water," he mumbles.

Nick's dismayed to realise that getting an instant erection in skinny jeans has not gotten more comfortable in the last three weeks. " That's fine. That's--for Christ's sake, just come here, you horrible child."

He scoots back to make room as Harry finally closes the distance between them.

"Might drip on your jeans," he mumbles, climbing onto the bed to straddle Nick's lap. "What if you can't get the scent out?"

"Don't care," Nick says, curling a hand around the back of Harry's neck and reeling him in. God, he smells amazing. "Just kiss me."

Harry, thankfully, doesn't have to be told twice, wrapping his arms around Nick's neck and kissing the breath right out of his lungs. That is, until he jerks back so suddenly he nearly ends up on the floor.

"Heyyy," Nick whines, clutching at Harry's hips to keep him from falling. It makes the dressing gown fall open, revealing Harry's flushed chest and the impressive jut of his dick. "Gosh," Nick says, practically salivating. "Look at that. I just want to lick it."

Harry sucks in a breath, dick twitching, but then he scrambles backwards, off Nick's lap and onto the floor. He stumbles back, stopping at the edge of the bedside rug and pulling the dressing gown tight around him. He's shaking, Nick realises, minute tremors wracking his narrow frame.

"Harry, darling, what's wrong?" Nick stands up slowly, holding his hands out.

Harry shakes his head, looking teary-eyed and absolutely miserable and Nick can't not go to him. It would kill him not to.

"Come here, love. Just come here." Nick pulls Harry into his arms, hugging him tightly. "It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."

Harry whimpers, pressing his face into Nick's neck and clutching at his shirt. "I'll ruin your bed." He breaks down, shoulders shaking. "I-it just keeps co-oming."

"Oh, darling." Nick clutches Harry a little tighter, rocking him back and forth. "There's a cover on the mattress and the sheets are disposable. I planned for this, love. I know what happens."

Harry twists his fingers into Nick's shirt, shoulders still shaking. 

"I know you don't like it right now, love, but you'll get used to it, I swear." It's so hard to find the right words to say when Harry dripping is basically what Nick's wet dreams are made of. "I know you feel terrible, baby. You haven't slept in ages and your hormones are all over the place." Nick turns his head, pressing a kiss against Harry's temple.

Harry sniffles, pulling on Nick's shirt. "It hurts," he whispers.

"I know, love. I can help you though. If you'll let me."

Harry nods against Nick's neck, wet hair tickling at his throat.

"Use your words," Nick murmurs, running a hand up Harry's back to cup the back of his head. "Tell me what you want." 

"Touch me." Harry presses his lips against Nick's neck. "Please."

Nick doesn't have to be asked twice; he keeps his left hand cupped around the back of Harry's head, rubbing soothing circles into Harry's scalp while he slips his right in between them, worming it into the dressing gown and dragging his knuckles down Harry's stomach. Harry sucks in a shaky breath, stomach quivering.

"This okay?" Nick asks. The need of heat comes and goes in unpredictable tidal waves and Nick's been with Omegas before who get prickly and don't want to be touched during the ebbs, even if they're hard.

"Yeah," Harry breathes, sounding less choked and more turned on. "Yeah, _please_."

Harry's dick is like steel in Nick's hand, burning hot and slick with precome, and Nick barely has time to get a good grip on it before Harry's spilling over his fingers with a deep, almost pained, groan. Nick still his hand but keeps his fingers curled around Harry's cock, thumbing lightly at the wet slit, while Harry pants harshly against his neck.

"Too much?" Nick asks, pressing a kiss to Harry's sweaty temple.

Harry turns his head mouthing his way up Nick's neck to his mouth. "Not enough," he mumbles before sealing their mouths together in a kiss.

Things go a bit hazy after that. Nick's shirt end up on the floor, as does Harry's dressing gown, and they tumble onto the bed in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs, still kissing.

"Need you," Harry pants against Nick's mouth, struggling to push Nick's jeans down over his hips. "Please."

"I got you," Nick promises, lifting his hips and shoving his jeans down to mid-thigh. "Just let me--"

Skinny jeans are the worst, Nick decides, pulling away from Harry to peel them off. Harry stretches his limbs out in a leisurely sprawl, the effect of which is only slightly ruined by his massive erection, and stares darkly at Nick. "Come here."

Nick leaves his jeans in a pile on the floor and crawls into Harry's waiting arms. He means to take it slow, be careful and considerate, but the moment Harry surges up to kiss him again all higher brain function flies right out the window and he finds himself rutting against Harry's stomach, panting gracelessly.

"Please, please, please, Nick. Need it," Harry begs, wrapping arms and legs around Nick's body. "Need your knot."

It's not how Nick envisioned their first time would go. He imagined he'd take his time, prep Harry until he was begging, and do it in a position more suitable for knotting, but Harry's been waiting so long, and Nick needs it just as much, and without even thinking he's shifting until his dick bumps against Harry's slippery opening.

Harry lets out a noise as if he's been punched, all breath leaving his lungs with a whoosh, and Nick doesn’t even have to steady himself as he pushes forward, Harry opens for him so easily.

"Oh god," Harry gasps, digging his fingers into Nick's back. "More."

Harry's so ready for him, so wet, that Nick doesn't have to be careful. He pushes forward until he bottoms out, bringing his hips flush to Harry's arse. He pauses there, already struggling to catch his breath and wanting to give Harry a moment to get used to the sensation, but Harry's having none of that.

"Fuck me," he begs, squirming on Nick's dick and pressing open mouthed kisses everywhere he can reach. "Please, please, _fuck_ me."

It's probably the least coordinated fuck of Nick's life, a proper mess of flailing, grasping limbs and erratic thrusts, but it's also, hands down, the best sex he's ever had. Harry is a live wire in his arms, moaning and gasping and begging, pulling at Nick with hands and heels, urging him on. Nick tries to keep some semblance of control, tries to make it good, make it last, but Harry needs it, that's the thing, and Nick never could deny him anything.

"Knot me, knot me, knot me," Harry buries one hand into Nick's hair, keeping him in place, and clutches at Nick's hip with the other, pulling him in. "Nick you have to."

"I got you," Nick pants, tension pulling his stomach tight. "I--"

Nick comes from his toes, from the tips of his fingers, from the base of his neck, his entire body electrified in long shivering pulses that never seem to end. He's dimly aware of Harry coming too, imagines he can feel it in his gut, and then his knot swells up, huge and sensitive, locking them together.

"Oh," Harry pants, eyes widening. "Oh god."

"You okay," Nick manages, still trying to catch his breath, still, somehow, coming.

Harry licks his lips, eyes hazy. "'m fantastic. You feel so good." He blinks slowly. "Amazing."

He's still hard, his dick rubbing against Nick's stomach with his panted breaths, but the urgency seems to have gone out of him. He eases his grip on Nick's hair and strokes his fingers down Nick's flushed chest to his hips, pulling him impossibly closer.

"Mmmm." His back arches, cock dribbling onto his stomach. "Like that."

"Yeah?"

Nick balances on one hand, grabbing a pillow and with impressive coordination Harry lifts up just enough for Nick to shove it in under his hips. It makes him rock into Harry again, their position changing slightly, and Harry adds more come to his stomach with something like a giggle.

"I wish you could feel how amazing I feel right now," Harry says dreamily, trailing his hands up to Nick's chest and spreading his fingers over his pectorals.

"I have some idea," Nick manages, bending down to kiss him because he can't not in that moment.

Harry groans faintly, tightening his legs around Nick's waist, and this time Nick's almost sure he can feel him coming, or maybe that's just Nick's own dick spurting another dribble of come, adding to the mess.

"Love you," Harry murmurs, pulling Nick down for another kiss. "Love you so much."

It makes Nick's eyes prickle and he kisses Harry again and again, helplessly rocking into him, shifting the knot. It won't be long now before the swelling starts to go down and he goes down on one elbow, getting a hand in between them to curl around Harry's cock.

It only takes a few swifts strokes for Harry to come again, his entire body shaking with the force of it.

"Don’t stop," Harry begs. "Nick, please, don't...."

Nick's back is aching and his thighs was feeling the strain fifteen minutes ago, but it still feels so fucking good he doesn't want to stop. He mashes their mouths together in a kiss and tightens his fingers on Harry's dick, grinding into him, and somehow, impossibly, Harry comes again.

The shivering pulses of Harry's orgasms sucks on Nick's knot, sending pleasure spiking through his stomach until he can't tell if it's Harry or him coming again, groaning helplessly against Harry's cheek. Then it's over and Harry finally goes lax, legs slipping from around Nick's waist and dick softening in Nick's hand.

The knot goes down enough for Nick to gently ease out of the clutch of Harry's body, earning him a weak whimper of a protest.

"Shhhh," Nick murmurs, slipping his hand down to where Harry is a mess of come and slick, rubbing lightly at his clenching opening. "It's okay."

Harry's crying, he realises, tears slipping down the sides of his flushed face, soaking into his tangled hair.

"It's okay," Nick whispers again, kissing his cheek and the corner of his mouth. "I love you."

Harry nods, pawing clumsily at Nick's sides. "I know." His lips pull into a smile that trembles at the edges. "Good tears."

It's a blessing to finally be able to change position and Nick reaches for the wet wipes he put out on the nightstand. They're not going to be nearly enough to clean up the mess, but he doesn't think Harry will be up for showering any time soon. Now that the need has been sated he seems to be fading fast.

Nick makes quick work of wiping himself down and then takes his time cleaning the mess from Harry's torso and down between his legs.

"'m a mess," Harry mumbles, keeping a hand curled around Nick's side as if he's afraid he'll move away completely.

"We can shower later." Nick leans down to kiss him lightly. "I need a nap."

Harry smiles faintly, pushing up to sniff at Nick's neck. "Liar," he murmurs, sinking back against the pillows. "You're just loving me a lot."

He's not wrong. There's so much love in Nick it's spilling over everywhere, but he does feel more than ready for a nap.

"We both need a nap," Nick amends, pecking a kiss against Harry's lips. "A long one."

Harry murmurs his agreement, managing just enough coordination to crawl into Nick's arms once he's settled down on the far edge of the bed, away from the wet spot.

"Missed this," Harry whispers, resting his cheek against Nick's chest. "Best place in the world."

Nick fumbles around until he finds the duvet he put on the floor by the bed and pulls it up over them. "Same," he says dumbly, sinking a hand into Harry's sweat damp hair and letting his eyes slip shut. "No place I'd rather be."

\--

The next time Nick's wake up his internal clock tells him it's the middle of the night. which apparently doesn't stop Harry from poking insistently at his side with a single finger.

"Stop it," Nick mumbles, trying to squirm away. "Go back to sleep."

"Can't," Harry whispers, shifting his hips meaningfully against Nick's side.

"Oh." Nick doesn’t quite have the mental capabilities right now to deal with Harry being hard but he squirms a hand down between them nonetheless, curling it around Harry's dick. Harry's already slick at the tip and Nick thumbs lightly at the beaded moisture, toying idly with Harry's foreskin.

Harry lets out a soft moan, rocking into Nick's hand, and it's the sort of thing it might be worth waking up fully for. Possibly.

"Do you need my knot?" Nick's not entirely sure he could manage right now, but if Harry needs him he'll rise to the occasion somehow.

"No." Harry shifts closer, nearly squishing Nick's hand between them. "Just this."

"'kay."

It's likely the laziest hand job Nick's ever given. It's a monumental effort to not just fall asleep in the middle of it and he certainly doesn't remember to do anything fancy. Harry doesn't seem to care though, rocking into Nick's grip with helpless little moans until he spills over Nick's fingers and hip with a final gasp.

"Good boy," Nick whispers, or tries to, he seems to be a few vowels short.

Harry laughs breathlessly. "Go back to sleep, babe." He kisses Nick's cheek and his lax mouth. "Love you."

Nick, as usual, does as Harry tells him to.

\--

When Nick wakes up again, it's morning and Harry's sitting cross legged on the bed next to him, eating a banana.

"I made you coffee," Harry says when he notices Nick is awake. "You should drink it fast."  
Nick blinks at him and then at the nightstand where there a thermos mug and a banana and then at Harry again. He's hard, Nick notices, the curve of his dick eerily reminiscent of the banana's, but bigger.

"Eat," Harry orders, pointing at the banana. "Drink."

Nick blinks some more, head still full of cobwebs, but he levers himself up to sit against the headboard and reaches for the banana. Banana and coffee is an awful combination, so Nick eats the banana first, chewing it carefully while he stares at Harry's dick. It's very pretty.

"Did you wake me up for a handie last night?" he asks conversationally. He thinks that happened but it might have been a dream.

"Yeah." Harry drops his banana peel into the waste basket Nick put out by the bed. "Felt weird rubbing off on your hip while you were sleeping."

Nick sort of likes the idea of Harry rubbing off on him while he sleeps, or maybe while he pretends to sleep so he can enjoy it. It almost happened once in New York and Nick thinks about it often.

"You could, if you wanted to." Nick hands the banana peel to Harry and grabs for his coffee. "Or, um, you could wake me up and then we could pretend I was still asleep."

Nick focuses really hard on his coffee. It's delicious and just the right temperature and probably to blame for the flush creeping up his cheeks. He likes a bit of role play sometimes, that's all.

"I'd like that, I think," Harry says, crawling onto Nick's lap and taking the almost-empty coffee cup out of his hands, putting it down on the nightstand. "I think I'd like anything you want to try." He cups Nick's face between his hands and kisses him.

Harry's not showered since yesterday, he tastes like banana, and there's definitely still crusted come on his chin, and Nick just wants him _so much_. Harry's hair is oily to the touch, tangling around Nick's knuckles, but he really couldn’t care less, holding Harry still for another kiss and another one until Harry pulls back to breathe against Nick's face.

"Fuck." He squirms on Nick's lap, dropping a hand to squeeze his own dick. "I didn't know it'd be like this."

It usually isn't, in Nick's experience. It's explosive when the need arises, and there are usually a fair amount of orgasms involved, but Harry must have come five six times last night without losing his erection. That's certainly something that's never happened to Nick before. Not to mention how many times Nick came; in retrospect it's hard to remember if it was just the longest orgasm ever recorded or several in a row, but there were definitely more orgasms than Nick usually has with an omega in heat. 

"Going to come on me?" Nick asks, looking down between them where the head of Harry's dick is poking out of his hand, slick and flushed. The way Nick is sitting makes his stomach fold unattractively, hairy and pale, but Harry looks down too, groans deep in his throat, jacks himself twice, and comes all over Nick's lap as if it's the sexiest thing he's ever seen. Nick supposes the way the covers tent over his erection is pretty erotic even if his stomach isn't.

"Fuck," Harry says again, reaching out to rub his come into Nick's stomach before slipping his hand up to Nick's chest, thumbing at one of nipples.

It sends a spike of pleasure through Nick's stomach and he moans softly, pulling Harry in for another kiss.

"Think I need you again," Harry pants when they pull apart. "I'm really," he scrunches his nose adorably, "wet."

Nick can't help the way he slips a hand down to palm Harry's arse, pulling him closer. "Are you sure you're wet enough?"

"You could checkif you wanted," Harry breathes. He's blushing a bit still, but he reaches back to guide Nick's hand where he wants it.

Nick takes his time, rubbing two fingers over Harry's slick opening before gently dipping them inside, delighted to be met with almost no resistance despite the way Harry's body immediately clutches at him once he's inside. Omega physiology is amazing.

"Mmmmm." Harry's eyes flutter shut and he arches his back, bearing down on Nick's fingers. "Feels good."

Harry so tight around Nick's fingers, so hot, and he's wet enough to have it drip down Nick's arm, and, well, Nick's dick is right there, aching for it.

"Want to ride me for a bit?" Nick asks unsteadily, already pulling the covers away with his free hand.

"Fuck yeah." Harry's eyes flies open and he shifts forward eagerly, making Nick's dick bump against the back of his own hand.

"Easy," Nick chides, sliding his fingers out of the way and gripping Harry's hip.

He curls his free hand around his dick, holding it steady, and uses his grip on Harry's hip to guide him down. They both groan when Nick pops inside and then it's just a slow slick glide to have Harry more or less seated in his lap.

"God," Harry breathes, squirming against Nick's iron tight hold of his hips. " _Fuck_."

He's hard and beautiful and flushed all over, damp with sweat and wet with arousal. Nick might come from just looking at him, which would be embarrassing.

"Take it easy, love," Nick instructs, easing his grip on Harry's hips. "Don't want to knot like this."

"Yeah." Harry's eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches. "Okay."

Nick pulls his legs up and Harry reaches back to rest his hands below Nick's knees, rocking his hips in small, barely there, circles.

"Fuck," Nick breathes, stroking his hands down to Harry's tense thighs, feeling his muscles shift. "You look amazing."

This is what Nick wanted when he fantasised about Harry rubbing off on him while he slept, Harry shamelessly, greedily, using him to get off. He barely seems to remember Nick is still there, every breath ending on a moan as he looks for the best possible angle, brows pulling together in an adorable frown when he doesn't get it right.

"Like this," Nick instructs, gripping his hips to keep him at the right angle, and Harry lets out a low groan, dick twitching.

"So close," Harry moans, eyelids fluttering. "Can I come?"

Nick's close too, but not so close he won't be able to hold back for a little while yet. "Yeah, babe," he manages, thrusting up as well as he can with Harry weighing him down. "Go ahead."

It seems that was all Harry needed to completely fall apart, dick jerking as he spurts in powerful pulses over both their stomachs, fingers digging into Nick's legs. He whimpers, still squirming on Nick's lap, still hard.

"Need it," he breathes. "Nick, please."

"Okay, love. On your knees."

Harry on his hands and knees, arse in air and wet with need, is quite possibly the most erotic sight Nick's ever seen. If he thought Harry could wait he'd bury his face between Harry's cheeks and eat him out until his lips went numb, but there's no way Harry can wait that long, and if he's honest, neither can he.

It's feels incredible to sink back into Harry, to bottom out with one powerful thrust that makes both of them groan, and know it's exactly what Harry wants.

"Feel so good," Nick says, falling forward over Harry's back to kiss the nape of his neck. "So amazing."

"Yeah," Harry pants, curling his arms and pushing back into Nick's thrusts. "You too."

Nick is careless at first, pulling back too far and slipping out a couple of times before he finds the right rhythm of short powerful strokes that has his hips slapping against Harry's arse. It doesn't take long for Harry's moans to turn into a near continuous whine. Nick slips an arm around his waist, curling a hand around Harry's dripping cock.

He doesn't have to tell Harry to come for him; he does anyway, and somehow it instantaneously triggers Nick's own orgasm that was only just starting to build at the base of his spine.

"Bloody 'ell," Nick grits out, holding his hips flush against Harry's arse as his knot swells up, thighs still shaking with the force of his orgasm. "What the fuck?"

Harry half laughs, half groans, looking at Nick over his shoulder. "It's called an orgasm," he manages, chest still heaving.

"Wise arse," Nick mutters, holding onto Harry's hip as he gently rolls them over on their sides and spoons up behind Harry.

"Mmm, yeah," Harry agrees nonsensically, reaching back to grab at Nick's hip, pulling him even closer. "Fuck, can't believe I was scared of this."

Nick thinks he's still maybe a bit scared of this. He thought he'd been involved in enough heats to have the blueprints figured out, but this is another beast all together. He mouths at Harry's neck, suddenly desperate to know what he smells like behind the overpowering scent of his heat.

Harry shifts slightly, rocking back, and Nick reaches for his cock, easily tugging another orgasm out of him. He definitely feels this one like a shiver through his loins and he groans softly, tonguing at Harry's shoulder.

It's another ten minutes and _two_ more orgasms before Harry's finally satisfied and Nick's knot starts to recede. He stays spooned up behind Harry, petting him lightly while he tries to catch his breath, until he's soft enough to just slip out of Harry's clutching body.

"Urgh," Harry says and Nick can easily imagine the way his nose scrunches. "I'm leaking."

"A shower probably wouldn't go amiss," Nick agrees, making absolutely no effort to move. "You stink."

Harry giggles, wriggling around in Nick's embrace and throwing a leg over his hips. " _You_ stink."

Nick's heart kind of wobbles a bit and he covers it up by pressing a kiss to Harry's awful smiling mouth. "How are you still this energetic?" he asks when they pull apart, pushing Harry's hair away from his face. "You've had a billion orgasms."

"Mmmm." Harry stretches leisurely and looks like he's contemplating having a few more right now. "Orgasms are great. _You_ are great."

"You're pretty okay too," Nick allows. "High maintenance, but…."

Harry giggles again, giving Nick another kiss. "I thought you'd done this before; should've known what to expect."

"I have. It wasn’t like this though." 

"Yeah?" Harry looks excited at the prospect. "Maybe it's because it's my first."

"Yeah," Nick says, trailing his fingers down Harry's back. "Maybe."

They really do need a shower and the bed needs new sheets and they should probably eat something before Harry needs his knot again, but it's really nice to just cuddle as well. Nick's life has been bereft of cuddles lately.

Harry tucks his face into Nick's neck and finds a corner of the duvet, pulling up over them in a haphazard fashion.

"I thought we were showering," Nick says.

"In a minute." Harry snuggles closer. "Nap first."

Nick smiles and kisses the top of his head. "As you wish, King Harold."

\--

"God, I really want to blow you," Harry says later, when they've had a nap and a shower and a snack and changed the sheets. "But the moment I get my mouth on your cock I'm going to need it. It's not fair."

"Glurgh," Nick says.

"I've been practicing too, like on bananas and stuff. I think I'm getting pretty good at it."

"Um--"

"Not like deep-throating though. Like… a piece might break off if you swallow around a banana and that would be a really unnecessary way to die, I think. They're good though, bananas; you can tell if you've been careless with your teeth straight away." Harry sighs, staring intently at Nick's crotch. "You should take your kit off."

Nick's shirt hits the floor before he even realises he has once again blindly followed Harry's orders. "I hope you never tell me to walk off a cliff," Nick says sullenly, easing the waistband over his already half-hard dick before he pushes his pants down his legs and steps out of them. "I always do whatever you tell me to."

"I'm going to go mad with power," Harry says, crawling onto the bed without taking his own pants off because he's awful. Not so awful that he ever bothered with a shirt, but still, he's at least 20% covered, which is unacceptable. "Completely mad. Like…come here and let me kiss you."

Nick goes, but only because he wants to.

"Mmmm," Harry says when they pull apart, glancing down to where Nick's dick is waving hello. "I just really want to suck you." He licks his lips, resting his forehead against Nick's shoulder. "I love your dick, is that weird? Like maybe not weird weird but like…." He trails off, thumbing lightly at Nick's hip. "I guess I didn't think it'd be like this." He moves his hand curling it around the base of Nick's cock. "I think I get it now." 

"Get what?" It's very hard to think with the way Harry's touching his dick and smelling really nice.

"The pretty cock thing."

Nick has no idea what Harry's talking about. "That's good, love," he says, petting Harry's hair. "Great." Harry has a pretty cock, Nick has a pretty cock, pretty cocks all around, everything is great.

Harry giggles before setting his teeth into Nick's shoulder for a bit of a nibble. "You said that."

"I say a lot of things," Nick points out breathlessly. "Most of them are stupid."

"Nice face, good hair, pretty cock, the Nick Grimshaw relationship requirements."

"That's great life advice actually. Words to live by."

"I do," Harry murmurs, and then Nick is being kissed again and his dick is still in Harry's hand and Harry smells so nice and Nick could probably knot from just this. He's turning into an awful sham of an Alpha.

"I'm going to suck you now," Harry announces when he pulls back, pushing gently on Nick's chest until he gives in and sprawls against the pillows. "For as long as I can manage."

It's probably going to become a problem in the future that he finds Harry's determined face incredibly sexy, Nick reckons, but he supposes it's the kind of burden he's willing to carry in life.

"You smell so good," Harry murmurs, swallowing thickly as if Nick's scent is making his mouth water. "Amazing." He presses his nose into Nick's pubes, inhaling, and Nick tangles a hand into his hair to gently cup the back of his head.

Harry pulls back slightly and licks his lips. "Okay," he says, glancing up at Nick. "I'm going in."

Nick would laugh, but Harry chooses that moment to get his mouth on Nick's dick and it comes out as a choked breathy wheeze. Harry whimpers through his nose, fingers clenching on Nick's hips, as if he's the one with a mouth on his dick, and Nick lets out a shaky breath, pressing his fingertips against Harry's scalp.

It doesn't take long before Harry has to pull off, panting harshly with his eyes squeezed shut and his fingers digging into Nick's hips. He's so wet that the pale grey of his boxer briefs is stained almost completely dark, as if he weed himself, and while Harry'd probably like to have another go sucking his cock, he's very stubborn, so Nick wriggles out from underneath him and gently guides him a bit further up the bed.

Harry doesn't even seem to realise it's happening until Nick eases his pants down over his arse. He gives Nick a look over his shoulder that's an endearing combination of bewildered and betrayed.

"You need it, love," Nick says, helping Harry lift his legs so that he can drop the pants off the side of the bed.

"But I wanted to suck you more," Harry whines, belying his words with the way he pushes his arse the air, offering himself. "Wanted to make you come."

"Next time," Nick promises, shuffling into position. "When your heat's over."

Whatever response Harry might have made dies in his throat when Nick tests the resistance with two fingers. Nick enters him with one long powerful thrust that brings his hips flush to Harry's arse.

"Fuck," Harry breathes, pushing back. "More."

Nick gives him more, curling his hands around Harry's hips and pulling him back into every short hard stroke until Harry's every breath ends on a moan and he's fisting his hands into the sheets, arching into every thrust. Sweat beads across Nick's forehead and the small of his back and Harry's slick is dripping down his thighs, the scent of Harry's heat so intense it makes Nick's mouth water. He never wants to stop fucking Harry--he wants to keep going until his legs give out or he faints from lack of oxygen, but the inevitable end is approaching far too quickly, coiling at the pit of his stomach and the base of his spine.

Nick groans, falling forward over Harry to kiss at his shoulders, his neck, driving into him with short hard strokes. He sets his teeth into Harry's shoulder, pulling him back onto his cock with the white-knuckled grip he has on his hips, and Harry comes with a shout. It rips Nick's orgasm out of him, this time with such force he feels faint, fingers and toes cramping as he spills inside Harry with a deep groan. His knot swells up, locking them together, and it's an effort to not just collapse onto Harry's back.

Harry reaches back with one hand, fumbling for Nick's hip and pulling him in even closer. "Keep moving," he pants. "Just… please."

Nick can't move very far but he can rock his hips into Harry, shifting the knot until it feels like he'll just fall to pieces with how good it is.

"Yeah," Harry groans. "That's--keep going."

Nick keeps his eyes closed and his mouth against Harry's shoulder, and he feels Harry's second orgasm like a shiver through his stomach. He guides them over on their sides, curling up around Harry, clutching him close, and he's struck by how he used to find this bit awkward. The intimacy of being locked together once the initial urgency fades that was almost unbearable at times and now it's his favourite bit. Part of it, he thinks, is how much Harry needs him, dick still hard after several orgasms, but mostly it's just that it's Harry and Nick loves him.

"Love you," he murmurs, pressing his lips to Harry's shoulder. "Love you so much."

Maybe it's just that he shifts slightly but it feels like Harry comes again from just how much Nick means it, as if it's possible to make someone orgasm with the power of love. Harry whines deep in his throat, clutching at Nick's hand, his hip, craning his neck to get at Nick's lips.

"I got you," Nick promises, slipping a hand down Harry's torso to curl around his dick while he presses their mouths together in a sloppy lopsided kiss. 

"Yeah," Harry breathes, putting a hand over Nick's on his dick. "I know."

Together they get Harry off again and then again, struggling to kiss the entire time. Nick feels high on love, delirious with it. He wants to open up his chest and tuck Harry inside. 

As soon as Nick is soft enough to slip out, Harry turns around in his arms, clinging with arms and legs as they kiss and kiss and kiss. Everything stops existing but Harry underneath him and this wonderful miraculous thing between them that’s so much more than Nick ever thought he would have. 

They kiss for so long Nick's lips feel raw and he thinks he comes again, or Harry does, or it's both of them. He can't even tell anymore. Then finally the urgency fades enough that he feels like he can pull back to breathe, staring down at Harry as if he's never seen him before.   
Harry smiles, small and soft, pushing Nick's limp quiff off his forehead. 

"Did we just fuck again?" Nick asks. He thinks they might have; he's damp with sweat all over and everything between them is sticky. 

Harry's mouth twitches and he pulls Nick down so he can speak against his ear. "Babe, you're still inside of me." 

"Oh." Nick flushes, shifting so that he slips out of Harry's body. "Sorry." 

"I like it when you stay inside of me." Harry kisses Nick's cheek, and the corner of his mouth. "Like feeling you soften."

Nick's not surprised, really; Harry's often weird like that. 

"'M not weird," Harry protests. "I'm amazing."

Nick's absolutely 100% certain he can feel how affronted Harry is and also that he didn't say the bit about Harry being weird out loud. 

"Weird _and_ amazing," Nick amends. It comes out all choked and awkward and he hides his face into Harry's neck, breathing him in. The scent of his heat is still raw and overpowering, but Nick imagines he can sense Harry's Omega scent beneath it and that it's _perfect_. 

" _You're_ weird," Harry mutters, running his fingers through Nick's hair.

Nick pulls back to look at him. Harry's smiling, eyes soft and fond, and when he pushes up to kiss the tip of Nick's nose, a shiver of something like love passes through Nick's chest.

"Love you," Nick says dumbly.

"I know," Harry responds, still smiling.

Nick wants to ask if he knows because he can feel it or if he knows because Nick's not shy of telling him, but somehow he can't find the words. He doesn't want to know if it's all an illusion brought on by Harry's heat and Nick's own desiring heart.

"Shower?" Nick suggests. They're both covered in come, sweat, and Harry's slick.

"Yeah," Harry says, belying his words by tugging Nick down for a kiss. "Soon."

"You've got to be kidding me," Nick mutters when he realises Harry's hard again, his erection poking at Nick's hip.

"What can I say?" Harry asks lightly, nipping at Nick's lower lip. "You're just that irresistible."

Nick's answering laugh is lost to another searing kiss.

\--

The height of Harry's heat last for five days, _five_ , and by the end of it Nick is sore in places he didn't even know he had.

"The inside of my knee hurts." Nick pulls his leg up to give the aforementioned appendage a sour look. "My _knee_." 

"Poor baby," Harry says soothingly, petting Nick's knee cap. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"Don't you dare." Nick pulls his leg out of reach and gives Harry suspicious look. Harry's sitting cross-legged beside him, naked but for Nick's crystal pendant that's resting against his breastbone. Harry's own pendant is still hanging on a hook in the bathroom where Harry left it on the first day, but he found Nick's on the floor earlier and has been wearing it since.

It's early still, too early to be up on a day off in Nick's opinion, but Harry's heat seems to have left him with boundless energy, and the lure of breakfast in bed was enough to rouse Nick as well. Now that breakfast has been dealt with, though, he'd like to go back to sleep.

"I'm going to nap for a hundred years," he says, finding a corner of the covers and pulling them up to his chin. "You can't stop me."

"You have a meeting at four," Harry reminds him.

"Fine, I'm going to nap until half three then." The meeting, already rescheduled twice, will be brief enough. Nick only really needs to sign a couple of papers, but he still vaguely dreads stepping outside for the first time in nearly a week. He knows from Lena's terse reports that the media has been going wild and the photogs will be on him like vultures the moment he leaves the flat. He briefly toyed with the idea of having the people he's meeting with come to him but Harry is still in heat, even if his scent has mellowed considerably, and Bella, his agent, is an Omega, neither of them would like it.

"Make it three and we have time for a quick shag," Harry says, lifting a corner of the covers and slipping in underneath them, cuddling up to Nick's side.

"Sex pest," Nick says, not unhappily. He might have vowed last night, after a marathon fuck that left him breathless, sore, and shaky, that he was never having sex again, but with Harry's leg over his and Harry's lovely hair tickling his nose, he wouldn't mind overtaxing another few muscles. There's definitely a spot at the back of his left shoulder blade that doesn't hurt.

"Your sex pest," Harry responds, except his lips are against Nick's chest and his mouth didn't move. It's not the first time Nick's picked up on Harry's thoughts in the last few days, but it never fails to make his heart flutter uselessly. Most of the time it's just emotional resonance, echoes of Harry's feelings fluttering through his chest like the softly beating wings of a butterfly -- something that is not entirely uncommon for a well matched Alpha/Omega pair -- but occasionally, like now, it's a fully formed sentence and that, to Nick's knowledge, is very rare. 

"Yeah," Nick says vaguely, threading his fingers through Harry's hair. "You are."

If Harry realises he didn't speak out loud, he doesn't mention it. He just hums contentedly and tightens his hold on Nick's waist.

\--

Leaving the house is awful and not made the slightest bit easier by Harry trailing him into the hallway to watch him put his shoes on, wearing nothing but a pair of sweats that cling precariously to his hips.

"You look good," Harry says. "Love those jeans on you."

Nick grunts in response, wrapping the laces of his Converse once around his ankle before tying them.

"The shirt's pretty good too."

It's Harry's shirt and Harry jeans and Harry's pants, socks and hoodie; even the crystal pendant around Nick's neck is Harry's. Nick would poke fun at him for dressing him up like a doll but he can feel the very real thread of insecurity laced through Harry's easygoing demeanour. No matter how well Harry bears it, he's still an Omega in heat whose Alpha is leaving the nest.

Nick glances at the full length mirror beside the front door and almost doesn't recognise himself. Harry's clothes are not much different from his usual attire, though the Packers shirt is a bit obvious, but he looks really different somehow. Better.

"Did I get more attractive in the last few days?" he asks, poking at his own cheek curiously. There's a glow about him that's never been there before, even his hair looks more luscious.

"I've heard semen is very rejuvenating," Harry says, coming up behind Nick and wrapping his arms around Nick's waist. "You always look great though."

Harry doesn't look different to Nick, but he always looks fantastic. The hickey on his neck is a beauty though.

"It's a good thing you're not leaving the house for a few days yet," Nick says, reaching back to thumb at Harry's neck.

Harry hums, leaning into the touch. "Maybe I should mark you up too."

"Well…."

"Somewhere it shows." 

Nick has an enormous hickey on his hip and another one just below his collarbone; Harry likes leaving marks almost as much as he enjoys receiving them.

"I'm wearing a Packers shirt, love. Believe me, it shows."

Harry grins, studying them in the mirror. "It looks really good on you."

Nick's phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, glancing at the screen. "Michel's here."

"Okay." Harry needlessly smooths the shirt out over Nick's chest, pulling lightly at the hem to flatten it further. "Good luck."

Nick turns in the circle of Harry's arms and presses a quick kiss to Harry's mouth. "See you soon, love."

"I know," Harry says , kissing him again. "Now go, or you'll be late." He shoves lightly at Nick's chest, smiling bravely, but Nick can still feel a current of anxiety beneath the surface.

"I'll stay if you need me to," he says seriously, cupping Harry's face between his hands.

Harry's smile turns genuine. "I know," he says, eyes soft. "That's why it's okay that you leave." He kisses the corner of Nick's mouth, breathing him in for a moment before he straightens up. "Now go."

Nick kisses him again. "Okay."

It's warm outside and loud and there are security guards in dark suits standing at either sides of the stairs down to Nick's flat. Nick wants to open the door and tell Harry they're getting the royal treatment, but he's pretty sure that if he does he'll just crawl back inside and reschedule his meeting for a third time, so he squares his shoulders and walks up the stairs instead.

"Mr Grimshaw," one of the guards says, nodding at him.

"Uh, hi," Nick responds at the same time as a shout goes up at the end of the street and camera shutters start clicking wildly. Nick blinks. There's an actual crowd, behind an actual barrier. He gives the guard who first addressed him a bewildered look.

"They come and go," the guard explains. "Most of them are fans of Mr Styles."

"Oh." At a closer look most of the gathered crowd is made up of teenage girls, and they're not quite as many as Nick first thought; the barrier threw him off. "They don't try to get closer?"

The barrier doesn’t cover the entire span of the street and Nick spies one of his neighbours stepping around it on her way home. He wonders what they all think of this. It's probably not made him the most popular guy in the neighbourhood.

"Occasionally they'll walk past, but they're well behaved for the most part. Once we put the barrier up, people started staying behind it on their own volition. It was messier before."

"Thank you," Nick says, feeling considerably out of his depth. He has many famous friends but none of them invoke the same kind of hysteria Harry does.

Michel is already waiting for him with the door to the passenger side open. Nick bids the security guards, farewell and thankfully slides into the car. He's going to be late for his meeting, he thinks, but at least he's showing up this time.

"You're a popular guy," Michel remarks, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Apparently," Nick agrees, watching the crowd over his shoulder as he car pulls away from the kerb.

It's hard to stop thinking about the crowd, such as it was, and even harder to not think about the lot of them trampling Richard and Marcus in their eagerness to get to Harry now that they know he's alone. He knows that the likelihood of them getting at Harry, even if they trample the guards, is very slim, and that his presence certainly wouldn't change the outcome of a sudden attack, but he worries nonetheless. He never thought he'd take on the traditional Alpha protector role, but here he is, considering telling Michel to turn the car around so that he can sit at Harry's feet and growl at anyone that comes to close.

Nick's phone buzzes and he fumbles it out of his pocket, sure that Harry's texting him to say he's under attack.

_Stop worrying so much. I'm fine. *heart emoji*_

Nick stares at the text for a few seconds. Either Harry can feel him too or he knows Nick far too well. 

_There was a lot of people outside. That's all._

Harry's only response is a kissy face and a laughing emoji, proving himself a terrible boyfriend.

Nick meeting takes longer than expected because Bella won't let him get away with just signing his name on a dotted line, which he should have expected. By the time Michel shows up to drive him home, the sky is already darkening.

The crowd at the barrier has thinned out, but the photogs are still there, greeting Nick with shouts for attention and clicking shutters. He waves this time, smiling blandly in their direction, while he makes his way across the pavement. There are guards still flanking the door, but one of the one from earlier has been replaced by Kieran, the guard Nick met when Harry first came home.

"Do you stand out here all night?" Nick asks, concerned.

"We move to the car at night," Kieran says. "Most people have gone home by then and we set up motion detectors."

"Oh," Nick says. People have gone through a whole lot of trouble to let Nick and Harry fuck in peace but Nick supposes Harry is a quite valuable asset. "I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience."

"It's a pretty nice gig to be honest," Kieran says. "At least now that the crowds have calmed down."

"Thank you," Nick says sincerely. "We appreciate it." He wonders what will happen in a couple of days when Harry's heat is truly over. They'll have to move for a while, he thinks, to Harry's house or somewhere else with a sturdy gate. Harry's not going to like it, though. He's amazingly stubborn and unconcerned about his own safety.

"You're welcome," the other guard says warmly, clapping Nick's back as he finally moves past them down the stairs. Nick can't help but wonder what they think of them. Surely they must read the papers and can piece two and two together as well as anyone else.

\--

Nick barely has time to lock the door behind him before Harry's on him, kissing him hotly, and what follows is the quickest fuck of Nick's life. When he comes to his senses, they're on the floor, his ankles are trapped in jeans, and Harry's giggling against his face.

"Hiya," Harry says, pushing Nick's quiff away from his forehead.

"Hiya," Nick echoes, blinking down at him. Harry's amusement dances through his chest like silver sparkles and Nick might just explode from emotion overload. _I love you_ , he thinks. _I love you so much it terrifies me_.

"Don't be scared," Harry says, pushing up to kiss him.

Nick's heart trips. "I didn't say that out loud," he points out, voice shaking.

The corner of Harry's mouth tilts up and there are the silver sparks again. "I know," he says simply.

Nick swallows thickly. His arms are trembling, he notices. How mad.

"Come on," Harry says, smiling softly. "Let's get off the floor, yeah?"

It feels backwards somehow that Harry's the one to guide him off the floor and help him out of the wild tangle of his clothes while Nick just stands there, overwhelmed. When they're both naked save for their crystal pendants, Harry leads Nick by the hand to the bathroom and takes his time cleaning both of them with a damp flannel. 

"There," he says when he's done, hanging the flannel over the edge of the sink. "You hungry?"

Nick swallows and nods. "Yeah."

Harry's brand new dressing gown fits Nick just fine and Nick's ratty old thing looks far better on Harry than it's ever done on Nick. Harry leads Nick by the hand again, taking him into the living room that has had a transformation in his absence.

"Oh," Nick says, blinking. "You've been busy."

There's something like a blanket fort in the conservatory. Harry's pushed the table to the side to make room for a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, surrounded by unlit candles. The fort is partly fenced in by chairs draped with heavy fabric, creating a cosy little nest facing the full length windows.

Harry leads Nick to the centre of the blanket nest and gives him a kiss. "Sit here."

Nick sits down, staring out into the garden while Harry lights the candles and brings several trays and plates from the kitchen. He feels a bit like he took a wrong turn and fell into a romantic movie, but in a good way; never let it be said Nick doesn't enjoy being pampered.

"I'm a little disappointed there are no rose petals," Nick says, accepting the wine glass Harry hands him. He can't remember the last time he had a drink; it's a truly depressing state of affairs.

"I considered it but I thought it might be too much." Harry settles down next to Nick. "Besides, I don't fancy getting petals in funny places."

"I'm just joking." Nick jostles Harry's shoulder. "This is lovely."

Harry can probably feel how choked up Nick is, which is embarrassing, but it's just really nice. Harry went through all this trouble when he knows Nick is already a sure thing.

"Where did you even get all this stuff?" Nick asks, trying to regain some composure. He recognises some of the blankets and pillows, but he certainly didn't own any oriental drapes when he left earlier, and half the tea light holders are new as well.

"Gemma dropped it off. She sends her regards and says you should try to suck a little less."

"I don't suck," Nick says, affronted.

Harry raises his eyebrows.

"Well, I hardly think that's what she meant." There's not been nearly enough of that anyway. Nick's plans for next week, when Harry's heat will truly be over, definitely include a marathon blowjob. It's been too long.

"Nah, I forgot to cover up the hickey so she teased me the entire time," Harry says. "And she wouldn't come in unless I opened the patio doors. She says the place stinks."

"She might have a point. It's not like we did much airing or cleaning in the last five days."

"We did laundry. And took the bin out."

"Both grand achievements," Nick agrees. He actually still can't really believe that they had to do laundry; he had bought _so many_ sheets. Now he can cross "having sex on a washing machine" off his bucket list even if it was more having sex against a washing machine and on the floor.

"Exactly." Harry grabs one of the plates and offers it to Nick. Nick takes one of the small filo pockets stacked on it and bites into it. It's spinach and feta. Of course it is.

"The only thing I could think about the entire time you were cooking that pie for me was how much I wanted to kiss you," Harry says conversationally, taking a pocket of his own. 

"I definitely cooked that pie because I wanted to kiss you."

"We're both idiots then," Harry says.

Nick laughs. "To stupidity," he says, raising his glass.

"To stupidity," Harry echoes.

They eat mostly in silence, lit only by the flickering candles set up all around their buffet and the light of the moon shining in through the skylight. Nick gets the distinct feeling Harry's giving him a moment to get used to the idea of them being…whatever it is they are, and he's grateful. He's not unsure about them and he wouldn’t give this up for the world, but it's a lot to take in. Even as a 17 year old romantic he never really considered something like this happening to him, and at almost 30 he'd convinced himself it was mostly a myth anyway.

Mates, true mates, are rare and it's not something most people consider outside trashy romance novels. Pixie and George are mates, but as far as Nick knows it doesn't extend to actual non-verbal communication. The only other mated pair Nick knows personally is Harry's mum, Anne, and her husband Robin, and he doesn’t think they communicate non-verbally either. 

Emotional echo, the ability to sense someone's emotions, is quite common among well-matched Alpha/Omega couples, but unless there's an actual bond it doesn't extend beyond the bedroom. Nick can definitely feel Harry even when they're not physically connected. All through his meeting he could feel Harry's presence in his chest even if he was too far away to pick up on any of his emotions. It's a lot to take in. 

Once the plates have been mostly emptied, Harry shifts closer and leans against Nick's side as he sips his wine. "You asked me once what you smell like to me," he says.

"Yeah?"

"I lied."

Nick glances at him, raising his eyebrows.

"I said you smelled good which is true, obviously, but more than that, you smell like you're mine. You've always smelled like you're mine." Harry frowns, as if he's struggling to put words to what he means. "Not like you belong to me, but like your scent is just for me. Like it was made for me?" He frowns again. "You smell like you're my person, it just took me a while to figure out what that meant."

Nick takes Harry's hand and lifts it to his face, sniffing at the inside of Harry's wrist. The scent of his heat is still strong, clinging to his skin, but underneath it Harry's true scent is starting to come through, his Omega scent, and it's everything Nick could have ever dreamed of.

"I know what you mean," he says roughly and if he's blinking back tears that's between him and his eyelashes.

"You're my mate," Harry says simply. "On some level I think I've known that since I met you." He lets out an amused snort. "It did come as a bit of a surprise, after all, the whole my-person-has-a-dick thing."

Nick thinks he must have been a saint in a past life for the way the universe is heaping joys on him in this one.

"I didn't want to be in love with you." Nick puts his wine glass down and takes one of Harry's hands, holding it between both of his. "It seemed like a terrible idea and the worst kind of self-flagellation."

Harry puts his head down on Nick's shoulder. "I'm glad you have an unruly heart then."

"Yeah." Nick squeezes Harry's hand. "Me too."

They sit in silence for a moment and Nick studies their ghostly reflection in the windows. Harry has his eyes closed and the corners of his mouth are tilted up in a smile.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Nick asks.

Harry opens his eyes. "I figured out that you were my mate, but I didn't know if I was yours." His fingers twitch against Nick's. "I read Enas and Dichleya in school too, you know."

"I too often base my life choices on Greek tragedies where everyone dies at the end," Nick says and earns himself a punch to the arm. "Ouch, I'm just kidding you monster." 

He captures Harry's hand again and lifts it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Harry's knuckles. Then he turns Harry's hand over and kisses the inside of his wrist. It'll be days yet before Harry's scent settles, but the whiff he can get already is enough to be intoxicating. He can't imagine what it's been like for Harry all this time.

"Can you smell me now?" Harry asks, his voice is trembling a bit.

"I can smell enough." Nick kisses his wrist again, feeling Harry's pulse flutter nervously against his lips. " _Mate_."

There's really only one way things can go after that and Nick's pretty sure he knocks something over in his haste to get Harry underneath him, but he couldn't actually care less because Harry surges up to kiss him, and Nick's chest is about to burst open with joy.

"Should we really do this here?" Nick asks when Harry pulls his dressing gown open and slips his hands in underneath.

"Fuck yeah," Harry responds pulling him down for another kiss.

Nick is a little too aware of the windows at his feet to fully relax. The garden is walled in and presumably there are guards out there somewhere but he'd rather not have his pale arse all over the news tomorrow.

"You can keep the dressing gown on," Harry mumbles between kisses, hands roaming restlessly up and down Nick's back. He really likes the idea of doing it right here where people could potentially -- if they were the sneaky burglary sort -- see, Nick can tell.

"This is a sex nest isn't it? You were just easing me into it with a romantic picnic."

Harry grins toothily. "It worked didn't it?" 

Harry's delight is addictive, so Nick just has to kiss him and once he's started it's really hard to stop. He's probably kissed Harry more already than he's kissed all other people in his life put together, but he thinks he could kiss Harry forever and not grow tired of it. 

It's Harry who eventually moves things along, pulling his legs up and wrapping them around Nick's waist under the dressing gown. It makes Nick's dick snub against his opening and he lets out a pleased moan, urging Nick forward with his heels. 

"You're teaching me some terrible habits," Nick murmurs, pushing back against Harry's heels as he slips a hand down between them to feel where Harry is wet and ready for him, just to make sure. 

Harry groans, trying to push into Nick's light touch. "Just want you so much," he manages. "Please."

"Yeah, yeah, I got you." Nick curls a hand around his dick, holding it steady. "I know what you want." 

Nick doesn't think he'll ever get enough of the noise Harry makes when Nick first fucks into him or the way he lifts into it, digging his fingers into Nick's back.

"Love this," Harry moans. "I fucking love this."

"Yeah," Nick pants. "Me too." 

Nick's back and knees, and thighs, and arms, and stomach are already sore with over-taxation -- even his dick feels a bit tender -- but it's so good, it's always so, so good. He wants to drag it out, wants to fuck Harry until his legs give out and they're both covered in come, but Harry smells so good and tastes so sweet and Nick knows it can't last. 

Harry comes first, tightening his legs around Nick's waist and letting out a long low groan as he spills between them in deep long pulses and Nick helplessly follows him over the edge. He drops his forehead to Harry's shoulder and groans deep his throat as his knot swells up, huge and tender, and locks them together. 

It's not an ideal position; knotting in missionary is hell on Nick's back once he can feel it again, but it's Harry's favourite, and Nick can't say he minds once he's gathered his wits enough to pull back slightly, getting the full view. Harry's hair paints a halo around his head, soft and curly, and his skin gleams golden in the flickering candle light. Christ, he's beautiful.

"Your back." Harry reaches up to touch Nick's cheek, eyes unbearably soft. 

"It's okay," Nick says roughly. It does hurt, though, so he straightens up a bit more, making Harry moan with the change of position. Harry eases his legs from around Nick's back and with his hands around Harry's hips, lifting him up, Nick can sit back on his haunches with Harry spread out like a buffet before him. It's still not the most comfortable position, but it's definitely better on his back.

Harry laughs throatily, sparks of delight fluttering through Nick's chest and making him shiver. "Like what you see?" he asks, spreading his arms wide and yes, _yes_ , Nick does.

"You're gorgeous, love," Nick says lightly, thumbing at Harry's hip cuts. He's still hard, Harry; it doesn't take as many orgasms to sate him now but he's definitely still in heat. Nick takes Harry’s dick in hishand, toying idly with the foreskin while he watches the play of emotion on his flushed face.

Harry bites on his lower lip, eyes so dark they're almost black. "Feels good," he breathes, thighs twitching. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Nick says inanely. It's hard to move in this new position, but Nick can roll his hips in tiny increments, more than enough to shift his knot inside Harry, making both of them cry out. Usually at this point Harry starts begging for more, but now he just watches Nick, mouth open around his harsh breaths, with his hands fisted into the blankets.

Nick closes his hand into a proper fist, working it over the head of Harry's dick with a slight twisting motion that makes Harry moan so loud Nick can feel the vibration in his thighs. He keeps his other hand wrapped around Harry's hip, holding him still when Harry starts to thrash against the pillows, knocking over several dishes--but hopefully no candles--with the way he pulls on the blankets.

Harry's orgasm is so powerful Nick can feel it to the soles of his feet and Harry stripes his own chest with come again. Nick really hopes there's no one lurking too close because they would have heard that. He's pretty sure they heard that in Regent's Park anyway.

He keeps his hand around Harry's dick, stroking it slowly until it starts to soften, and he lets it fall down to rest on Harry's stomach, plump, slick and flushed. He stares for a moment, trying to burn the image into his brain so he can always bring it up when he needs it.

Harry lets out a hoarse giggle, eyes still closed. "Are you thinking really intensely about my dick right now?"

"Yeah," Nick admits.

Harry opens his eyes, smiling delightedly. "I could tell."

Nick's knot is going down and he's really starting to feel all the ways this position is hell on his sore body, but he stays exactly where he is, petting every bit of Harry he reach.

"I don't really know a lot about soul bonds," Nick confesses. "I don't know how it works."

"Me neither." Harry's shrug is enough to make Nick's softening cock slip out of him and they both wince.

"You sore?" Nick asks, worried that the change in position jostled Harry too much.

"Just empty."

"Oh." Nick shifts out from between Harry's legs, stretching out beside him, before he reaches down to touch Harry's opening gently.

"Mmmmm," Harry sighs, throwing one leg over Nick's hip to open himself up. "Really like that."

Nick rests his cheek on Harry's shoulder and slips two fingers into him, meeting almost no resistance. "You're so wet," he murmurs, sliding his fingers deeper.

"Yeah," Harry breathes. "From you."

Nick hums his agreement, fingering Harry dreamily. He's absolutely exhausted, and the wine didn't do him any favours, but Harry feels so good inside, his body clutching hungrily at Nick's fingers.

Harry lets out the trembling kind of banked breath Nick has learned means he's getting turned on for real.

"Want me to stop?" he asks.

"Don't you dare."

Nick chuckles, turning his head to press a kiss to Harry's chest. "As you wish, King Harold."

He pulls his fingers out only to push back with three and Harry lets out a small moan, thigh twitching against Nick's hip. Nick can tell without opening his eyes that Harry's hard again, he can feel it like a shiver through his own loins, and it's enough incentive for him to pry his eyes open again.

"Touch yourself for me," he says.

Harry has to use his left hand, as his right is trapped behind Nick's back, but he sets a quick sloppy rhythm, whining deep in his throat. It's easy to get him off after that; all is takes is a few more deep strokes of Nick's fingers and Nick's mouth on his nipple. He is, if possible, even louder this time, and he accidentally kicks Nick in the back of the thigh with the way his body spasms. 

"Rude," Nick mumbles, kissing Harry's nipple before he moves his head back to the very good resting place it had on Harry's shoulder. He pulls his fingers out slowly, keeping them against Harry's opening until it's stopped clenching and Harry's breathing has calmed down some.

"You're so fucking good at sex you're giving me a complex," Harry croaks hoarsely, sinking his fingers into Nick's hair. "Like. Wow."

"I think it's more that we're really good at sex with each other," Nick says sleepily, pulling his hand up from between Harry's legs to rest it on his sticky stomach. He really wants a nap but they're crusty and gross and he doesn't want the house to burn down. Also, if anyone was to look in right now they'd certainly get an eyeful.

"No, I really think it's--hey, my crystal is glowing."

"What?" Nick lifts his head, and Harry's right: the lighter swirls of the crystal are glowing faintly, like one of those glow in the dark toys that were all the rage when Nick was a kid.

"Is it supposed to do that?"

Nick's stomach swoops and he sits up, pulling his own crystal into the faint light coming in through the skylight from the full moon hanging low in the sky about them. It's glowing too. "Bond stone," he says, fingers shaking a bit. "The woman who sold it said it glows in under a full moon if a bond is true. I almost forgot."

"Oh."

They stare at each other for a moment, then Harry grabs for Nick's hand, Nick grabs for Harry's side and they knock noses in their haste to kiss.

"Ouch." Harry laughs and kisses Nick at the same time. "Oh my god."

"I know," Nick breathes, kissing him again and then again. "We're properly bonded then."

Harry's joy is like a living thing and their combined happiness makes Nick feel drunk on giddiness.

"I want to call my mum and Gem, and Dad, and--"

Nick laughs. "You can call them tomorrow, love."

"How so? Do you have plans for me?" Harry waggles his eyebrows.

"Not all of us are nineteen and in heat, you know."

Harry laughs, climbing bodily into Nick's lap. "Liar," he breathes. "You do have plans for me."

And yeah, okay, maybe Nick does, but this time Harry can be on top.

\--

When Nick wakes up in the morning, the mess in the living room has been cleaned up save for a pile of left over supplies in a corner and Harry's on the phone talking to his mum.

"Gotta go, Mum," he says when he spots Nick, grinning with his entire face. "Nick's up… Uh huh. I will. Love you too." He throws his phone to the side and beams at Nick. "Mum says hi and congratulations and also I broke the internet."

Nick laughs, Harry's delight is intoxicating. "I hope it was a flattering picture."

"Of course it was. Oh, I made you coffee. Don't move."

Harry's barefoot in skinny jeans and one of Nick's old band shirts, and he looks good enough to eat with the sketch work tattoos climbing up his arm and hair hanging halfway down his neck. Nick is such a lucky, lucky man.

Harry comes back from the kitchen with Nick's favourite cup and a cheese toastie on a plate. "I already ate," he says apologetically. "And I have to call dad."

"It's okay." Nick takes the cup, the plate and the kiss Harry offers. "Go talk to your family, darling."

Nick eats at the table in the conservatory, looking out into the garden, while Harry walks aimlessly around the flat, talking to various members of his family by the sound of it. Nick should probably call his own parents. He's talked to his mum a couple of times, but she'll want to know he's gone and bonded with the teenage millionaire popstar. She'll be happy for him, he thinks, and maybe it will soothe a few of the worries she pretends she doesn't have about the age difference and the nature of Harry's life. It's not that she doesn't love Harry, but she's a mother and it's her job to worry about things like that.

Harry's still on the phone when Nick's finished his breakfast and a second cup of coffee so he retrieves his phone from the bedroom and checks Harry's instagram. Two hours ago -- he's been up for a while then -- he posted a picture of two them that he took earlier in the week. They're very clearly in bed, smiling goofily at each other with their heads on the same pillow. Nick's hair is a mess and the picture is a tad blurry because Harry couldn't hold the phone still, but it's a really good picture. The happiness in it is palpable. The caption is simply a heart emoji.

The picture has over 400,000 likes and 50,000 comments. Nick isn't stupid enough to read any of them. He thumbs Whatsapp open instead and scans through the messages of love and support from all their friends. His chest clenches and embarrassingly his eyes sting. It doesn't exactly get better when he finds messages from Liv and Jane and Andy and even a joint text from his mum and dad.

_Liv showed us Harry's picture. We're so happy for you. Give Harry our love. /Mum and dad_

Nick presses a hand to his eyes but it's too late, of course he cries. It's a bit like they got married; Harry held Nick's hand and said "I do," and instead of just their family and friends he brought the whole world as their witness.

"Hey," Harry says, coming up behind him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Nick chokes out but he still gratefully accepts Harry's embrace, pressing his face into Harry's taut stomach.

Harry curls one arm around Nick's head and uses the other to pet Nick's shoulders. He really is the best possible boy.

_Love you_. It's not really like Harry said it out loud, it's more like Nick suddenly knows that he said it, and if Harry tries to telepathically send him more information Nick doesn't get it.

_Love you too_ , he thinks and when Harry doesn't respond he says it out loud. He turns his head to rest his cheek against Harry's stomach, linking his arms loosely around Harry's thighs. "I think we need a new deal, the telepathic reception is awful."

Harry laughs, tugging lightly on Nick's hair. "I read a bit about bonds this morning," he says. "And I think we're pretty special."

"Of course we are," Nick scoffs. He straightens up, feeling a bit less wobbly, and scoots the chair back so that Harry can fit on his lap.

"Mates are not that uncommon, and all mates have some kind of bond, but the one we have--" Harry bites on his lower lip. "I think it's really strong."

"Yeah," Nick says, pushing Harry's hair back from his face and kissing him. "I think so too."

"It'll probably get stronger with every heat too, that's what mum thought."

Nick nods; Pixie's said the same thing. "Maybe one day I'll be able to figure out what actually goes on in here," he says, knocking his knuckles lightly against Harry's skull.

"Doubt it," Harry says with grin. "It's too sophisticated for you."

Nick laughs. "Is that so, Mr. I didn't even stay on past GCSEs?"

"You're one to talk, Mr. flopped out of uni to play records. My thoughts are on a whole other level."

"Well, that much has always been clear."

Harry loses his composure first, breaking down into giggles and pressing his face against Nick's neck. He smells even more deliciously like his true Omega self today, only the slightest hint of heat still messing with his scent.

_Sex now_? Nick tries, focusing really hard.

He doesn't know if Harry hears him but insistent way Harry kisses him says: Yes, they're having sex now. No telepathy needed.

\--

Later, much much later, and after a well needed shower, Nick takes a close up picture of the tattoo Harry _still_ hasn't found and posts it to instagram with the caption: _Tiny bit of ink for my favourite person._

Harry's in the living room with their takeaway, a glass of wine, and his phone.

"You do not have that tattoo," he says when Nick walks into the room, pointing an accusing finger at Nick. "I would have seen it."

"I do."

"No, you don't."

"I really do."

Harry stares at him. "You do?"

Nick takes pity on him, pulling the sleeve of his t-shirt up and baring the inside of his underarm. Harry's up like a shot, nearly knocking the table over in his rush to get around it.

"Oh my god," he breathes, touching a shaking fingertip to the edge of the tattoo. "When did you get this?"

"Weekend after I got home from NYC."

"When you went to Kate's party?"

"Yeah."

"This is my handwriting." Harry traces the outline of the H.

"Yeah, found a note you'd signed." Nick's not going to mention he found it weeks before and tucked it into his wallet. A man needs some secrets.

"Fuck," Harry says roughly, pressing a hand to his eyes. "You got a tattoo for me."

He's happy, Nick can tell that much. He's so happy Nick feels a bit overwhelmed himself. He'll get a hundred more tattoos if it makes Harry this happy.

"God, I love you," Harry says, throwing his arms around Nick's waist hugging him hard.

"Feeling's mutual," Nick says, kissing the top of Harry's head. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Harry turns his head so he can rest his cheek against Nick's chest and look at his tattoo at the same time. It's still a bit weird that Nick can _feel_ his smile rather than see it.

"We have to be really good people from now on," Harry says seriously. "We have to pay back."

Nick gets what he means but it still makes him chuckle.

"I'm serious," Harry says.

"I know you are." Nick kisses Harry's head again. "And you're always a good person."

"You are too," Harry says loyally. "But we have to be even better."

Nick worries about cosmic justice too and it doesn't seem possible that he's somehow deserved this. He's not like the teen heroes he meets every year for the Teen Awards, or even some of his friends who tirelessly work to make the world a better place.

"I'll try," Nick promises.

"Me too." Harry sighs, leaning forward to press his lips to the tattoo. "Can't believe I missed this."

"You've been a bit distracted," Nick says fondly, sliding his fingers into Harry's hair.

Harry straightens up. "Also can't believe you let me find out from _Instagram_."

"I just wanted to contribute to the internet breakdown. Can't let you take all the credit."

"Still." Harry pokes Nick in the chest. Hard. "You owe me at least a blow job."

Nick laughs. "You drive a hard bargain, love, but okay. One blowjob it is."

"Good." Harry chews his lower lip, eyes darkening. "Now?"

Nick laughs and hoists Harry into his arms, bridal style. "As you wish, my love. I like my curry cold anyway."

\--The End--

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. <3
> 
> You can find me on twitter as [jeyhawk](https://twitter.com/jeyhawk) or tumblr as [becominghawk](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/becominghawk).


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